Til Death Do Us Part
by Lefting
Summary: Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP slash. WIP
1. I Harry's Problem

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

Several warnings, but nothing unusual. Slash, swearing, Snape lovin' (non-graphic, don't panic!) and kinda forced-marriage. But not really? Just read it.

'Til Death Do Us Part

Part I - Harry's Problem

Harry's summer had, so far, been fairly mundane. He'd had more than enough time to come to terms with his godfather's death and decided that, although he had loved the man dearly, he should celebrate what little time they'd shared, not mourn it. He had also decided that the Dursleys, under any condition, should not be told that Sirius Black was dead. The thought of a murdering godfather, along with the Order's 'friendly' warnings to them, had convinced the family to leave him alone.

Dudley had even become vaguely normal around him, much to Harry's bemusement.

With only one regular correspondence now (Hermione) and the Dursleys keeping clear of him, Harry actually found himself at a bit of a loose end. He'd finished all of his school work fairly promptly and reread a lot of the texts in the hope of finding something that might inspire him. Nothing, yet, had sprung up.

Mornings saw Harry jogging around the block and sipping strong black coffee sitting on the wall opposite the café. Sometimes he'd go into the local library, but the reputation the Dursleys had given him, made all of the locals wary of him, so he never stayed there long. Likewise, Harry couldn't get a job. What would he put on a resume anyway? 'Despite having a madman trying to kill me, I've managed to get respectable marks in all of my subjects, doing particularly well in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I also happen to speak fluently to snakes.' Hah! He'd considered giving that to one of the shopkeepers just to see their face.

In the afternoon Harry would generally continue his work in the back garden. Although the Dursleys no longer forced him to do the chores, Harry still felt a certain tranquillity in the normal, everyday tasks such as gardening and cooking. Aunt Petunia certainly voiced no complaint when Harry requested that he make dinner for them sometimes. In the garden he had also made friends with a couple of the little snakes that lived there. Mostly they snubbed him, thinking themselves much above some servant boy who kept the gardens, but they were polite enough.

It was midway through August before Harry wondered if he could order magical books via a catalogue and had been pleasantly surprised when, after sending Hedwig out with a note of enquiry to Flourish and Blotts, she'd returned with a shiny fat magazine. Ms Flourish had expressed her surprise at his request, as apparently most people preferred to owl order the majority of their things. Just another thing to add to Harry's ever growing list of Things About the Wizarding World No One Bothered To Tell Me.

However, his irritation was largely laid to rest when he remembered that he could now order any book that he liked. The catalogue looked to be a good inch thick and full to bursting with every type of book imaginable. Flipping through, Harry soon realised that, unfortunately, this was completely true. Unfortunately because the books were alphabetised, not ordered in subject.

It had taken a while to sift through all of the utterly pointless (_How to Make Long Term Enemies_), the frivolous (_The Mysterious Art of Magically Painting Your Nails_), and downright stupid (_Using a Muggle Telly-Pigeon_) but eventually Harry had a long list of about forty books that interested him. Happy with the knowledge that he had enough in his account to cover a few extra books he'd picked out the 'best' ten and ordered them.

And, thus, Harry's daily routine changed. He still went jogging and did a bit of the gardening, but he now spent a lot of his time reading the books he'd sent for. Two of them proved not to be worth the money he'd spent on them, but the rest held some interesting ideas. Only one of the ten was really inspiring, and it was one that Harry had not initially felt certain of. It's title was certainly nothing spectacular; _Seeing Things_. The only reason he'd bought it was that the review provided in the catalogue mentioned that it was a guide to Occlumency, not Divination.

With the book's help, Harry found it easier to sort through his thoughts and memories and felt pretty certain that if Snape were to shout "Clear your mind!" again and delve into his thoughts he'd hold out a little longer than he had before. Hermione had also helped in her latest letter, saying that there were some Muggle methods that might help him to Occlude his mind.

But, books aside, Harry found himself awaiting his birthday with eager anticipation. He was not the type of person who'd read books if there was something else more exciting or profitable to do and a birthday was certainly a more exciting thing! After all, it wasn't everyday that he turned sixteen. He was hoping that, among the usual presents, the Weasleys might find it in their hearts to pick him up and let him stay for the rest of the holiday.

Midnight took a long time coming, but when it did Harry's grin was blinding and he opened the window wide for the owls to arrive. Hedwig was the first to enter. She'd disappeared some hours before and he welcomed her back with a bit of bacon left over from his dinner. She dropped the package in his lap, nipped his ear and flew to her cage. The other birds followed soon after and were fairly easy to recognise. There was a Hogwarts owl, the Weasleys' owl and a familiar tawny that Hermione had been using for her posts. Harry greeted each of them with a treat and a stroke, moving his coat of the back of his chair so there was room for them all to rest.

The presents were as they usually were; a book from Hermione, along with a long letter in response to his previous one, attached to a birthday card. Ron had sent a box of Bertie Bott's and five chocolate frogs, along with a birthday card and a short, friendly note that was the extent of his and Harry's summer correspondence. From Mrs Weasley, Harry received a homemade cake with an elaborately iced top and another birthday card, signed by all the Weasleys except Ron and Ginny. Ginny had also sent a separate card, and a pair of finely tailored gloves that she'd been working on for him since he'd given her access to the Basilisk skin. Hagrid had sent his usual package of inedible sweets and Remus had written a long note, apologising for his silence over the holidays, and a ten sickle token to Zonko's.

Harry chuckled when he found the token. Remus Lupin almost deserved the title of Slytherin, Harry had learnt the previous year. Mild mannered and easy to forgive, Remus had always seemed like he hadn't fitted in with the Marauders. A pity case, almost. Friends with James and Sirius simply because he shared a dorm room. However, in the two years since he had sopped teaching Harry, the werewolf had shown, in his frequent - if sporadic - letters that appearances weren't everything. Remus had a wicked sense of humour, a sharp mind and no qualms about pranking anyone, although he had admitted easily to Harry that he had always felt uncomfortable with the extent to which his friends took it, particularly in concern to Snape.

Harry propped up his cards in a neat row along the back of his desk, refilled Hedwig's water bowl and quickly tried on Ginny's gloves. Setting the majority of his presents to one side, Harry swallowed down two of the chocolate frogs and opened the packet of Every Flavour Beans before settling down to read the notes his friends had sent.

At about two o'clock, after he'd sent replies and thank yous to all of his friends, as well as posting his own card to Neville, Harry fell asleep.

Four hours later, long before he'd intended on waking, Harry was roused by an known, official looking bird tapping irritably at the window. Upon spotting it, Harry woke completely and frowned. He'd not done any magic - purposely or accidentally - and he couldn't think of anything else that the ministry was likely to send a letter to him about.

Certain that he must have done something wrong, but clueless as t what it might be, Harry opened the window and allowed the owl in, untying the letter and offering Hedwig's stand. The bird _huffed_ at him snobbishly and took off, slapping Harry in the face with one wing as it flew from the room. Maybe not a Ministry bird, then, Harry supposed. He doubted that the Ministry could afford to spoil their owls enough that they gained such an attitude.

Turning the letter over in his hand, Harry recognised the seal on the back to be that of Gringotts and wondered what had happened - then a horrific thought struck him. He'd assumed that the huge pile of gold in his vault would be enough to last him seven years, but what if he'd been wrong? Hogwarts was a very expensive school and the book and uniform requirements each year were no mean thing. What if his latest book purchases had used up the last of his money? What if he was in debt? What if he couldn't afford to go back to school? The summer had been boring enough on its own!

Determined to get it over and done with, Harry slid his finger under the seal and ripped it open. Squeezing his eyes tight shut so he couldn't see the page he took a deep, fortifying breath and then opened his eyes to read.

_Dear Mr H J Potter_

_We are pleased to inform you that, upon reaching your sixteenth birthday, legal ownership_

_of your other Gringotts vaults has been transferred to you. You may chose to return _

_ownership to your guardian until a later date if you deem it prudent. It is recommended that_

_you book an appointment at your local branch promptly for a more detailed assessment._

_Please find enclosed a copy of your guardian's monetary transactions in your name. It is _

_assumed that all withdrawals from your temporary vault are your own._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_J. I. Opinging_

_Chief Advisor of Gringotts (London Branch)_

Harry gawked. Vaults? What vaults? What guardian? _What_ monetary transactions? Surely his guardians must be the Dursleys, but if that were the case then they'd never complain about his cost of living and they'd certainly not still live at Number Four, Privet Drive. As they did and they were, then his guardian must be someone else, and if it was someone else, then who? Perhaps it was Sirius? That thought was quickly squashed though, if it had been Sirius, surely his godfather would have mentioned it? Or at the very least, he should have received a note from Gringotts upon his death telling him what was happening. Perhaps the 'monetary transactions' sheet would tell him more or give him a clue.

_Amount: Reason: Date:_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/81_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/82_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/83_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/84_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/85_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/86_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/87_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/88_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/89_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/90_

_500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/91_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/91_

_500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/92_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/92_

_500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/93_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/93_

_500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/94_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/94_

_1500 Galleons Unknown 25/06/95_

_500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/95_

_100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/95_

_2000 Galleons Donation to the Ministry post-Voldemort redecoration 17/06/96_

_Total amount withdrawn: 7500 Galleons_

Harry sat blinking at the page for a long time before what he was seeing sank in. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed fairly clear that whoever this mysterious 'guardian' of his was, they were paying his relatives to look after him. The first withdrawal was made the day of his parents' deaths, the day that he was left on the Dursleys' front doorstep. The only rational conclusion was that with him had been his own money as a pay off. A yearly pay off.

The dates of the Hogwarts fees were normal enough and, though Harry didn't know it was quite _that_ expensive to attend Hogwarts, it didn't surprise him. The donation to the ministry Harry also wouldn't have objected to, if it hadn't been quite so much. Whoever his 'guardian' was, they seemed very eager to spend his money to stay on the good side of the Ministry. The only other unknown withdrawal confused Harry. Whilst his 'guardian' seemed quite happy to pay off his relatives and the ministry, they hadn't taken any money for their own, per se. The fact that they had, and so much, was strange.

Wracking his brains, the only corresponding fact to that date Harry could come up with was that it was about the same sort of time as the Third Task and Voldemort's return. Although, why this would prompt his unknown 'guardian' to take that much money out of his account Harry had no idea. But the Goblins would surely know who they were and Harry had a good mind to shout at whoever they were. Using his money to _pay_ his relatives. Not taking Harry in to look after themselves. For, if they were legally allowed to control his vaults, they should be legally allowed to look after him, too.

Harry glanced out the window, down at the street below. The Order had said that they'd be keeping a discrete eye out for him over the holidays and, so far, he had only caught a quick glance of bright pink hair or such like out of the corner of his eyes. He wondered what it would take for them to assert their presence. He knew that if he wanted to go to Diagon Alley he should probably tell them, although it would take very little effort to give them the slip if he really wanted to. Debating with himself for a moment, Harry glanced at Mrs Weasley's cake.

Creeping quietly downstairs he retrieved two forks, two plates and a knife and took them back up to his room. With care he cut two large pieces, his mouth watering as the rich, thick chocolate oozed from the middle, it's delicious scent wafting up.

Then, leaving the rest of the cake and the knife in his room, he picked up the two plates and went down the hall, knocking quietly on Dudley's door and praying that his bribe would work. After all, his diet had been driving Dudley crazy and he was only asking what Dudley would probably quite happily do all on his own, if he didn't know that Harry was being guarded.

There was a groan from inside, a thump and a muttered curse before the door swung open to reveal a bleary eyed Dudley with a ferocious snarl on his lips.

"What?" the larger boy snapped.

Harry offered up one of the plates. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, praying that chocolate cake would appease the blonde boy.

Dudley snatched the cake from Harry's hand and sniffed it suspiciously. "It's not poisoned, is it?" he asked bluntly.

"Of course not. It's birthday cake. Why would my friends send me poisoned birthday cake?" Harry shot back, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

Cautiously the other boy sniffed it again, scooped up some of the icing with a podgy finger and tasted it. Dudley's eyes closed and his mouth curled up in simple, unadulterated appreciation. Then, as if only just realising who was standing before him, Dudley's eyes snapped open, he stepped back and nervously waved Harry into his room.

The inside of his cousin's bedroom was nothing like Harry expected it to be. All of Dudley's expensive, pointless toys were carefully packed up in boxes along the top of his wardrobe, there were shelves of books and magazines and the compact laptop sitting closed on his desk was attached to a larger, well used key board. The only thing that was reminiscent of the Dudley Harry thought he knew was the expensive iPod docking station and posters over his bed and on the wardrobe, that showed various drunken rockstars.

"Uh… yeah…" Dudley trailed off and moved past Harry to slump on his bed, eyeing his slice of cake enviously but knowing that Harry would want an explanation. "I want to go into Law Enforcement, but apparently you need half way decent grades and, well, Emma said that I needed to be getting better than a couple of 'C's if I wanted her to go out with me."

Harry let out a low whistle of appreciation. "She must be something if she's managed to kick you into shape."

"Yeah," was all Dudley said, pointing to one of the many pictures that were tacked up in a collage of faces on the pin board by his desk. He dug into his slice of cake as Harry admired the pretty little waif of a girl that seemed to have Dudley so enamoured. There were a number of pictures of her, with a group of her friends, studying in the library, on her own, and one of her and Dudley standing together with his arm around her, both grinning wildly.

"That was our first date - the day I got my first 'A'," Dudley elaborated, seeing where Harry's attention was aimed.

"Good for you," Harry said, doing his utmost not to sound too shocked. The pretty little girl and his whale of a cousin certainly made an odd-looking couple, but if it worked for them, who was he to judge?

Dudley finished wolfing down his cake and set the fork and plate to one side, turning his full attention to Harry. "So what's the deal?" he asked finally. " What do you need?"

The other boy swallowed his mouthful and answered simply, "I want you to beat me up."

"What?!" Dudley choked out, looking as though his cake was about to make a re-entry. "Why?"

"Because I need to grab the attention of my guards and I figured you'd be willing."

Dudley looked away from Harry awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers as he watched them with what appeared to be extreme fascination. Eventually, quietly - "I owe you my life, man. So, no. No, I'm not willing."

Harry slumped, a pang of disappointment stinging him and he wondered what he could do to entice Dudley to pick a fight with him. The fact that he was… grateful? for being saved was odd. Harry couldn't really remember being thanked for saving someone before. Sirius had told him he was like his Dad, Ginny that she hadn't meant to do it, Cedric's Dad had just yelled at him… Harry shrugged, awkward as he was disappointed.

"Couldn't you just, I dunno, walk out there and start talking to them? Why do you need to talk to them anyway?"

"I don't know who's on duty or where exactly they are," Harry explained. "I need to go into the magical part of London."

Dudley considered the problem seriously for a moment, before asking him, "Why do you need their permission to go there?"

"I -" Harry started, and stopped just as abruptly. "I don't know."

Dudley grinned. "I can give you a fiver for the bus fares and a coke or something while you're there. You should just head off once you've had breakfast."

Harry stood, grinning. Slapping Dudley on the shoulder in thanks, he declined the offer of money and left with the two plates. He wasn't quite sure what'd happened to Dudley - it was surreal in more than a few ways, but he wasn't about to start complaining. Sending a quick prayer to whatever deities might be listening, Harry quickly washed up the plates, grabbed what he needed for the day and heading out.

It was a short walk to the bus stop and the buses into London were fairly frequent, so it only took Harry about half an hour to be standing outside The Leaky Cauldron. He hesitated a moment, wondering how much of a lecture he was likely to receive from Dumbledore for leaving his home, but soon decided he didn't care. His only hope was that Tonks wasn't the one who'd been watching him. He liked her and didn't want her to get the blame for letting him wander off.

With a cheerful 'hello' to Tom, Harry made his way rapidly through the pub and out into Diagon Alley beyond. He paused for a moment, looking at the shops around him and was struck with an urge to spend a large amount of money on things he might not need. But, first things first, he needed to go to Gringotts.

The building was just as imposing as it always had been, and the Goblins just as ugly. Walking up to an empty spot at the long desk behind which were seated all of the Goblins, Harry introduced himself to the one sat there.

For a moment the Goblin stared at him with derision, then unfolding his long, skeletal fingers, he stood from his seat, walked around the desk and beckoned Harry to follow. They exited by a door looking much the same as any of the other doors, but instead of leading to the carts to take them down to the vaults it lead into another lobby which looked much like a waiting room.

The Goblin left Harry alone in the room, not saying anything and just walking out the way he had come. With nothing else to do, Harry sunk down into one of the particularly uncomfortable seats and dozed a little, catching up on some of the sleep he'd missed.

Harry wasn't aware how long he'd been left in the Waiting Room, but he was woken by a clearly displeased coughing noise. Pushing his glasses up his nose he blinked blearily at the Goblin before him. She - or at least, Harry though it was a she - was sending him a scowl that would make even Snape proud.

"Mr Potter?" she snapped.

"Yes?"

"Well are you or aren't you?" she shot back, clearly not used to being kept waiting.

Harry scowled back at her. "I am, why do you want to know?"

She looked at him like she would very much like to slit his belly and hurl him from his neck by a piece of rope out of the nearest window. "I am Opinging, Chief Monetary Advisor of Gringotts as well as your personal advisor."

"Why would you want to advise me?" Harry blurted out before he could consider the question and earning himself another glare.

"Because you are one of our richest and most prestigious clients, Mr Potter. And we fear that your Guardian has been abusing your money." She paused and eyed him for the first time without maliciousness, but still calculatingly. "Follow me." Then she turned and stalked from the room, leaving Harry to only follow rapidly behind.

He was led through a multitude of small, winding corridors that twisted and turned until the only confident decision Harry could make as to his whereabouts was that it was now above ground level. Finally they reached what appeared to be Opinging's office, as she gestured him to take the seat opposite a large, official looking desk that she sat behind.

"Who is my Guardian?" Harry asked as soon as he regained his breath.

The Goblin considered him a moment, as though he might be joking. "Dumbledore, of course," she replied after finally deciding to take him seriously.

Harry gaped. Then, after a moment of what he was sure was amused silence from Opinging's end, he gathered enough wits to ask, "If he's my Guardian, how come I've been living with my Muggle relatives?"

Opinging sighed and rolled her eyes. "I am a _monetary_ advisor, Mr Potter, not a _life_ advisor. While I'll concede that your living situation is odd, it's not unheard of. I'm more worried about the transactions that have taken place over the last fifteen years. Of the 22 withdrawals made from your family vaults, 16 of them were for unknown reasons. This is an alarmingly high percentage."

"Do you have no way of telling where that money went?" Harry asked. "I mean, I've kinda fingered where most of it went, but there was one that-"

"Mr Potter!" Opinging interrupted, "'Unknown' means that it is not known, that we do not have knowledge of it! We gave you as much information as we have available to us."

Harry bit back the insults that threatened to bubble forth. Dumbledore! Dumbledore had been the one screwing him over! He could still remember the first time he'd heard of Dumbledore, that he'd seen him. If Harry had learnt, then, that Dumbledore was his Guardian, he would have been over the moon. It would have meant, to him, away from the Dursleys. It would have meant Christmas and Birthday presents. It would have meant, essentially, a Grandfather.

Now, however… Harry's nails bit into the palms of his hands as his fists clenched. The bloody bastard had said that there was no other option! That the Dursleys were his Guardians! That he wasn't allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays! And he'd been _paying_ them to keep him away from Hogwarts. Was Harry really that much trouble? Was he really not worth putting up with unless they were paid to do so?

"I'm afraid that none of these withdrawals are redeemable," Opinging continued on, when Harry nodded at her that he was in a calmer state of mind. "However, we can withdraw from your Guardian's account what was taken from yours."

Harry paused a moment, considering. "The Hogwarts fees are correct?"

Opinging hesitated a moment, looking uncertain for the first time. "They would be."

There was a long pause in which Harry waited impatiently for the Goblin to continue, but nothing more was said.

Finally, she carried on. "The payments for your Hogwarts fee were settled by your parents a day or two after you were born. The payments would have been cancelled had you died, but as you are famous for not doing so, the payment for your total Hogwarts education was made as soon as you accepted your first year invitation."

"That bloody rat bastard!" Harry screamed, standing suddenly from his chair and pacing from one end of the room to the other. "He's paying off my relatives, he's spending all my money, he's pretending to protect me while I fight Volde-fucking-mort _alone. _What the hell else is he hiding?"

Opinging watched him with narrow-eyed consideration. Finally, after several minutes of him muttering to himself, she spoke up again. "There is one last bomb to drop, if you'll excuse the Muggle expression."

Harry glanced up at her, waving a hand as an indication to continue, but still pacing swiftly back and forth, mind turning.

"Dumbledore applied to the Wizengamot last month to continue as your Guardian until the fall of Voldemort, given that you remain Harry Potter. His reasoning was that you would need someone you trusted, someone responsible, taking care of your accounts so you didn't have to deal with that added pressure. He also sited your Muggle childhood and lack of knowledge of the wizarding world as another reason. His application was agreed to and signed last night."

This time Harry did not swear, and jump about. His pace quickened slightly and the already heavy frown on his face deepened. "Can I not just change my name?" he asked after a moment longer.

"Without control of your account, you would not be able to change the name on you vaults and, thus, you would lose all of your money. It would go to Dumbledore by default."

"How about adoption?" Harry asked, desperation now clear in his voice.

"Unless a wizard or witch is orphaned without an official Guardian, you need that Guardian's signature."

Harry laughed hysterically and collapsed down into his seat. "You better have some damn good advice Ms Opinging, because the only other way I can think of changing a name is through marriage, and I'm a bloke."

"Perhaps Dumbledore was right in saying you are naïve to the ways of the wizarding world," the Goblin mused.

"Spit it out," Harry snapped. He was two pissed off to think of courtesy.

Opinging smiled a little. Any Goblin's smile was not nice, but this one was particularly nasty. "Because of the number of same-sex marriages, it is the name of the most affluent house that is taken, not the bridegroom's."

Harry leant forward and let his head drop to the table with a load 'thunk'. "I should never have said anything," he muttered.

"I'm afraid there is a little bit of a problem with this, though," Opinging continued. This time Harry didn't even to respond of show in anyway that he was still listening. "Unfortunately the Potters were one of the richest families in Wizarding Britain, as such the number of single witches and wizards who are richer than you is very limited."

"How many?"

"Well, discounting those betrothed, engaged or under the age of fifteen… three."

Harry very, very slowly raised his head and asked another question that, in all honesty, he didn't want to know the answer to. "Who?"

"Representing the House of Prince, Severus Snape, aged 36. Representing the House of Fudge, Jacqueline Fudge, aged 89. And, lastly, representing the House of Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, aged 16."

Harry looked at Opinging for a long, tense moment. This time it was he that looked at her calculatingly, to see if she were joking around or not. Finally, he decided that he had to face the facts. The cosmos seemed to treat his life like one, never ending joke. Thus, Opinging must be utterly serious.

"Well fuck."


	2. II Draco's Problem

'Til Death Do Us Part

Part II - Draco's Problem

Draco took one look at his reflection and swore very loudly. With his father in prison his mother had been given free reign of the manor and of him. And that, he had always known, was never, ever a good thing. The face staring back at him from the mirror confirmed it.

His nose looked slightly crooked on his face and was bleeding heavily. One eye was swollen and surrounded by a deep purple bruise whilst the other was bloodshot and weepy. His lips were cracked and his bruised jaw ached. Normally immaculate hair was in disarray and his casually formal attire was torn and split.

The buttons to his shirt were ripped off and one of his sleeves was stained dark red and stuck to his arm. His trousers were covered in rips and tears from the knife his mother had decided to use and they too were sticking to his legs.

Draco knew that at this stage the only truly sensible thing he could do would be to call a House Elf to his side. To get a message to Dumbledore or somebody and call for help. And yet, his pride did not allow it. He knew that if he called for the aid of a House Elf that his mother would hear of it. And if she heard of it, the beating, next time, would be worse. He also knew that if he tried to get a message out, it would likely not reach wherever it was intended to go, only falling back on itself and ending in his mother's hands. He dreaded to think of what would happen to him then.

He quickly stripped off his ruined clothes, piling them up on the fire and ignoring the itching smell of burning blood. He knew from experience that if he left his clothes on, if he did not clean himself up now, he would be much sorrier for it in the morning. The cuts would quickly become infected and the bloodied clothes would become stuck to his skin, the cloth melded into the open cuts. It was painful enough peeling it off as it was.

The exposure of the rest of his body did little to lift Draco's spirits. His legs and torso were covered in a multitude of scratches; some short, some long, some deep, some shallow. His left arm, the arm that should have held the Dark Mark by now, but didn't through his own determination never to receive such an ugly, degrading mark, was a bloody mess.

Everyone, when they looked at his family, thought that it was his father who was the greater supporter of the Dark Lord. That it was Lucius Malfoy who stood fully behind the cause, gaining Ministerial power to please his Lord. They thought that Draco's was a spoilt little brat, who knew nothing of the pain and suffering in the world. That he was just a daddy's boy, determined to follow in his Death Eater father's footsteps.

The only thing would be right about was the fact that Draco _was _a daddy's boy. With a mother such as his, how could he not? For his father was just a participant in events. He went where the political river took him. When it led him to Hogwarts, it took him to Slytherin. It made him a friend in Severus Snape. When it led him to the Black's house, he married Narcissa. It gave him his son, Draco. It also gave him a taste of humility.

They said that Bellatrix was the crazy one. They were right, of course, but in many ways Narcissa was just as crazy. She never abused her husband, she was not magically powerful enough to. But after several years of marriage she had enough dirt on him to send him straight to the bottom of the political ladder, if she wished. She did not, for that would mean her own disgrace, but she used that information to blackmail him.

Narcissa was the reason Lucius was a Death Eater. She was the reason the Dark Lord preferred their family so much. She was the reason that the Malfoy funds and grounds were so often the base upon which the Dark Lord supported himself. She was the reason why Draco went back to school smothered in glamours and often chose to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays.

Draco's left arm was ribbons of flesh, a bloodied mass that hurt more than he cared to express. His mother had foregone Cruciatus, this time, but that did not make the beating any less painful. Narcissa knew ways of hurting people that such a blunt approach as a single curse could not dare to compare itself to. And, what's more, she knew exactly what to say to Draco to make him feel like nothing more than scum.

But he was a Malfoy. She was not. Although she carried the Malfoy name, it was only a name. At heart she was a Black. But he, he was a Malfoy.

That was the thought that kept Draco going. He was better than her. She might be his mother, but he was superior to her. And, one day, she would pay for the long years of torture she had gifted him with. She would go to Azkaban or get Kissed and Draco would free his father, give control back to him, or take control in his stead. Spending and investing the Malfoy fortune wisely.

He wasn't stupid, he knew that a lot of that was a pipe-dream. It was looking increasingly unlikely that Lucius would ever be freed from prison and the chances of _Harry Potter_ winning against the Dark Lord were so minimal that Draco feared the day he could overpower his mother would never come. Nonetheless, he had learnt everything he could about finances, about wizarding law, about politics. His school grades suffered for his extra-curricular study sometimes, but he was determined to get what he wanted.

Listening to the dreams of others his age, he often wondered why there was no one but his father in that dream with him. Surely it was normal to want someone - a husband or a wife - there to share it with him? But the thought of someone else turned the dream sour. The thought of being lawfully wedded only brought images of his mother to mind, with her creepy little smile as she cut open his skin. He could just about muster up the thought of a child, but again, after suffering through the relationship that was his parents' family unit, Draco could not find it within himself to ever wish that upon anyone.

One advantage of living in the manor was that one of many wards set up to guard the place was an anti-magic-detection ward. It meant that he could perform any magic he liked in the manor, despite still being magically under aged. If there were some way of becoming emancipated without direct permission from each of the members of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic, Draco was sure that his father would have done it. As it stood, however, this was the best Draco could get.

Exhausted already, both physically and emotionally, from his latest run in with his mother, it took a great deal of effort for Draco to begin healing himself as well. The severity of each of his wounds wasn't that great, with the exception, perhaps, of what had once been his left arm, but there were so many bruises and cuts that to heal all of them would take a very long time and a lot of energy. Energy Draco simply didn't have.

So, instead, he concentrated on the worst of it. Knowing that he would be completely and utterly spent by the time he was done, he arranged himself on the bed and started. First he dealt with his broken nose, as that would have the most obvious physical effect that anyone could see. Then, he got to work on his arm. He managed to seal up the wound, but not eliminate the scar before the world span around him and he gave in to the darkness that was threatening.

When Draco woke again it was still dark outside. His entire body ached, but not as badly as it had before. Looking down at his left arm he cursed quietly. He'd progressed far enough that the skin was soft and smooth, but it was a patch work of thin white scar lines that Draco had yet to understand how to get rid of. Rolling reluctantly and with some difficulty out of bed he made his way to the bathroom and started the taps of the bath.

When he was well and was not covered in scratches, Draco would fill his bath tub with hundreds of different, amazing scents. He'd wallow and preen and _relax_. But the soap aggravated cuts like nothing but salt could. So, he had to satisfy himself with a non-bubbly bath and a lump of ordinary, if expensive, soap. Lowering himself even just into water hurt like the blazes, but depressingly Draco had become used to it and, other than a wince, he did not show his pain.

The bath took longer than it should have, like they always did after beatings, and drawing himself up and towelling off was just as painful. Still, the cuts were starting to heal over now, with the help of the healing aid that was in the soap. Standing naked and damp in the middle of his bathroom, Draco shut his eyes and concentrated on grasping his magical core with all his might and spreading it's warm glow all through the cuts and the aches. It soothed and balmed and, when Draco opened his eyes again, only the remains of the deeper cuts remained, and only a faint hint of his black eye left one eye dark.

Staring at the mirror and scowling at all the tiny white scar marks left over from years and years of abuse, Draco cast his usual glamours, slipping them on like a second skin before he called a House Elf and demanded that breakfast be brought early to his rooms. The House Elf bowed and scraped, leaving not pity and only disgust in Draco. When you had nothing else left, you could always rely on your pride to present you as you truly were. House Elves had no pride, that was why they made such brilliant servants.

With breakfast there arrived a letter. This in itself was strange, as the majority of the mail intended for Draco never reached him. His mother would, of course, intercept it and read it herself. If it was nothing of importance, no mention was ever made of it. If it demanded a reply, his mother would tell him the basics, then order him to write an answering letter. These, too, were read through by his mother before they were sealed and sent off. So the fact that this particular letter had reached Draco came as a surprise.

Turning it over in his hands, he immediately recognised both the writing and the House Seal. It was not as if he had not read that spiky handwriting (so similar in style to the personality of the writer) practically every day of his Hogwarts school career. Severus Snape was the his father's best friend and, had it not been for Narcissa voicing her displeasure at the idea of a _half-blood_ in the immediate family, he would also have been Draco's Godfather. As it stood, he had taken on that role anyway, though not officially.

The House Elf who was setting out the breakfast things on his bedside table, looked up when Draco's curious eyes fixed on it.

"Master Malfoy is saying that Snape-y letters be given straight to Young Master. Mistress Malfoy tries to change this rule, but we knows better. Snape-y is good for Young Master," it explained, looking cautiously up. "Is we doing right?" it asked.

Draco paused, astonished for a moment. In all his years, he could not remember a House Elf ever asking him a direct question. "Yes!" he finally burst out, before regaining his usual level of decorum. "Certainly. My Father may be absent currently, but he still holds more power in this house than my mother. Always chose his orders over hers."

"Yes, yes, we's be doing that!" the House Elf cried ecstatically. "And when Young Master comes of age, we listen to him first too!" It continued, then seemed to recollect itself, winced as if waiting for a blow and, upon not receiving one, it smiled and popped out of existence.

Draco's hands were shaking and he sank heavily down on to the bed. Setting the letter to one side momentarily, he ran a hand through his still wet hair. Of age. All it took to become more powerful than his mother was to become Of Age. He should have guessed. The official records and laws state that both parents must either die or sign their fortune over for the eldest child to inherit, but traditionally, in terms of magic…

Seventeen was the age of magical maturity. It was when a witch or wizard unlocked what remained of their accessible magical power. The amount of magic someone could access within themselves was minimal up until the age of eleven and then grew steadily until the age of seventeen. No one was capable of reaching their complete magical potential, because it would drain them dry of magic and kill them as a consequence, but whatever remained of their accessible magic that they had yet to touch, would be gifted them on their seventeenth. Therefore, traditionally, it made perfect sense for the eldest child to inherit the moment they reached seventeen.

It was a tradition that, up until now, Draco had completely forgotten about. He had learnt it when he was very young, when Narcissa, though cold and distant was not an actual threat. He had thought it a nice enough tradition, but not necessary. An odd fact of general knowledge, but not something that he would ever need to know. Why would he need to know it? His father loved and nurtured him. He would receive his inheritance when he was worthy, when he was ready.

Feeling a new hope alight in his chest, Draco smiled a little. There were spells and potions that could age you, that could release your magical potential early. He wouldn't mind losing a year of his life if it meant that he could get rid of his mother.

Pushing these thoughts to the side, Draco helped himself to his breakfast, eating heartily to recover the huge loss of energy over the past twelve hours. Once finished and pouring himself a second cup of tea, Draco picked up his letter from Severus and walked over to his desk. He sliced open the seal and unfolded the paper carefully. An unopened letter was such a novelty, such an amazement, that it would not do to lose it.

_Dear Draco,_

_I wish I could say that I hope you are well, but I believe that may be too much to ask, with your father in prison and your mother doing as she will. Nonetheless, do not doubt that I do wish you well. _

_There are two very important items of information I wish to talk to you about, but feel that it would be more prudent to do so face to face, rather than by a letter that can be all too easily intercepted. The first is about something that has no huge importance but to myself, though it is something that I feel I have kept hidden from you for far too long. The second involves your current situation. I believe I have a solution, though you will not like it._

_I have given this letter to my House Elves to pass on to yours, but have sent another via owl, that your Mother is sure to pick up. I hope you will pay me visit later today or tomorrow._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus_

Draco read it through and grinned like fool. A solution! Two solutions in less than half an hour, when they had been searching for them for so long! In the entire world, only Draco, Lucius and Severus (House Elves not included) knew about what took place within the walls of Malfoy Manor. The three of them had been working tirelessly since the first time Narcissa had truly beaten up Draco to come up with a way of getting him out. But nothing plausible had ever arisen.

Fighting the urge to whistle - his mother would think it far too plebeian - Draco hid the letter in the fake bottom of the draw in of his bedside table and began preparing for the day. Momentarily gone was the anxiety that stretched across his face, that made his skin too tight for his face, made his features appear even pointier than they looked naturally. His brows were relaxed and not drawn together and the slight pinch to his mouth was gone, too.

This time when he stood before his bathroom mirror it was a prince who stared arrogantly back, not a pauper. He tied his hair back in a ponytail and, for once, forewent the gel that he normal used too much of. Knowing that he was likely to meet Severus later, which meant a long, comfortable talk over several cups of coffee and a packet of ginger nut biscuits, he was dressed casually in black slacks and an emerald green button down. A slight smile lay upon his lips, doing wonders to his face. It brightened his eyes, making them glow quicksilver rather than stormy grey. It made him wondrous to behold.

Taking up the text he had been reading, Draco left his room and walked down to the first drawing room, where he knew his mother would be. Upon his entrance, and seeing immediately the sudden lightness of character that had certainly not been there before, Narcissa narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but said nothing as she turned a cheek to him. Draco kissed it dutifully and set the book on the coffee table, before settling in the armchair opposite her.

"Good morning, Mother," he greeted quietly.

Narcissa eyed him again for a moment, before daintily picking up her teacup and sipping from it. "You hide behind masks, my son," she replied.

Draco bowed his head, but continued to keep eye contact. "Mother," he said without inflection.

Setting her cup down, Narcissa leant across the table and raised a hand, stroking two fingers down the side of Draco's face, from temple to jaw. Then she placed those two fingers under his chin and raised it so his face was raised up like an angel's to God.

"Whatever am I to do with you, darling Dragon?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. The next moment she was reclined in her own chair, teacup balanced delicately between her fingers as though she had never moved. "The half-blood wishes to see you," she told him. "As he is an acquaintance of both yours and your father's I can see no reason to deny him, but you must return home before four, Draco. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mother," Draco responded, trying his best not to sound too eager, too excited.

Again, Narcissa eyed him narrowly, before waving her hand at him dismissively. "Go. I am in no mood to suffer you today."

Draco stood. Again, he had to control himself, but this time to stop the natural wince as his skin and muscles rearranged themselves from several moments sat down. It could have been far worse, though. His mother often made him sit and talk to her for hours on end about some inconsequential bullshit before letting him go. If she had cared for him, perhaps Draco wouldn't mind it. It would, perhaps, be bonding time. But if that were the case, he would also be able to express his own opinions, not the things she wanted to here. As it was, he viewed it as a different, subtler type of torture.

Hurrying back to his room, he returned the book to his desk and grabbed a jacket from his wardrobe. Then, wasting no time, he walked briskly down stairs, out of the front entrance of the manor and to the portkey the House Elves already had prepared. Glancing once more up at the house, a place he had not called home for a long time now, he touched the photo frame and was whisked away.

Severus had not been aware of any chance to inherit anything until shortly after his thirty-second birthday. His grandfather, a man whom he had never known and who had disowned his only child and Severus' mother, Eileen Snape nee Prince, had been on his death bed. With no other children, and loathe to leave anything to his 'traitor of a daughter' he had called Severus to him. Severus had moved in, tended to the man's lingering distance and showed no remorse when he died. Shortly thereafter, he had invited his mother to move in with him.

Prince Manor was no where near the size of Draco's, but it was sizeable in its own right. It had a more authentic beauty to it than the glamorous façade that Malfoy Manor had. There was something endearing about the wild beauty of the gardens, the slightly lopsided tilt to the roof and the lead-bound windows that weren't quite at the same angle to each other. Draco loved it. It was a haven, a place of escape, where the quiet was beautiful, not oppressive. It and its owner - even Eileen Snape, to an extent - were sanctuaries for Draco, places and people he could turn to and that he could rely on without a doubt.

The door was opened before he reached it and he was greeted by Eileen's ever-present smile.

"Come in, dear boy, come in!" she beckoned, stretching up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on each cheek. "Sevvy told me that you'd be by today or tomorrow to pop in. Now, are you staying for dinner tonight or are you off gallivanting with your friends?" She asked, taking his jacket and hanging it up, before leading him further into the house towards the conservatory over looking the gardens.

There were three very important things that had to be remembered when Draco was talking to Eileen. The first was that she always acted like she didn't have a clue what went on in the Malfoy household, though she seemed to know better than anyone else. This was not due to callousness, but to give Draco someone he could be himself around and could forget completely about his home life. The second was that she mothered. When Severus had been a child she had not had the chance to act as a proper mother should, so she over compensated for it now. And the final, most important fact: she and only she could get away with calling Severus 'Sevvy'.

"I'm off at four, Mrs Snape, so I would love to have afternoon tea with you, but am afraid I shall have to miss out on your magnificent cooking at dinner," Draco said with a light grin.

"Tush lad, don't you tease me. I'm too old for foolery like that. And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Eileen?"

"Always once more," Draco shot back. They knew that it was a cheesy little role play, but it was half-tradition by now.

Eileen rolled her eyes and laughed lightly, before pushing open the conservatory door to allow Draco in. Inside was not only Severus, but another. She had skin like black coffee and hair like the night sky. Her eyes were a soft chestnut brown and she was smiling. She was not at all beautiful, but the darkness of her itself seemed to be attracting. The thing that really struck Draco was how close she was sat to Severus; thighs touching, his arm across the back of the sofa behind her and her hand lying casually on her knee.

When Draco entered, however, Severus stood up. He immediately walked over and drew Draco into a hug that was not responded to.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked quickly as he stepped back.

"I've dealt with it. Severus, who's she?" Draco responded, brushing aside the concern and steeping around him to look down at the newcomer.

Severus watched for a moment as Draco stared down at her, and she stared right back up at him. Whilst from Draco there was a curious, not-quite-hostile-yet vibe coming from him, the stranger looked back without emotion. She could pull off emotionless better than Severus sometimes.

"She's the something I probably should have told you about a long time ago," he answered finally. "Draco Malfoy, I would like you to meet my… partner, Lucille Hash. Lucy, Draco."

Lucy stood with a fluidity that was not quite elegance. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Draco. Severus talks a lot about you."

"Funny, I've never heard anything about you," Draco shot back.

"Draco," Severus snapped. "I know what you think of romantic entanglements. Can you honestly tell me that informing you of our… situation, would have been a good idea even just six months ago? You have a maturity now that you did not have then. A better sense of rationality."

Draco glanced away from Lucy, back up to Severus. "I don't like it."

"I know," Severus said, and sighed. Then he gestured towards the arm chair before sitting back down beside Lucy, though this time they were decidedly farther apart than they had been before. "I knew you wouldn't. Just… give her a chance?"

"Why do you need my permission?" Draco asked back sullenly, sinking back into the chair. This was not at all what he had been hoping from a day at Severus'.

"Draco," Lucy said before Severus could, leaning forward so her arms rested lightly on her knees. "From what I understand, Severus is all but officially your godfather, correct? The two of you, you are like father and son. Of course he doesn't need your permission. But he does desperately want your approval."

Severus turned to glare at the side of her head, muttering something about him being "not bloody _desperate_."

She ignored him, but replaced her hand upon his knee and squeezed lightly. It was that little sign of familiarity that convinced Draco to let it go… for now. He knew that to some greater or lesser extent he was being ridiculous, but with Lucius in Azkaban Severus was his only family. And even when his father was around, Severus was a confidant, a pillar of strength. The thought of him falling for the same trap as his father was… not worth thinking of. Until such a time that Draco could trust Lucy he would continue to treat her as an outsider.

Then a sudden thought struck Draco. "Wait, at least six months? How long have you been… doing whatever your doing?"

Lucy grinned at that. Already she could see the similarities between the two men; both so determined not put any kind of permanent label on a relationship. "We met almost three years ago. We've been…" here, she paused and winked at Draco, "…_doing_ since not long after. But only officially for two years."

"Two yea- what? That _long_? You've managed to put up with the old bat in a solid relationship for _that_ long?"

Severus stood sharply, glared at both of them and stalked from the room, muttering to himself again.

As soon as he was gone, Draco jumped to his feet and stalked forward, towering over Lucy. "I don't care how fucking long you've been together, how much you love him or what the hell he thinks he's doing - you hurt him and I will personally make your life a fucking hell."

"I expected nothing less," she replied quickly, staring back up unblinkingly. "I can't promise to never hurt him, but I can swear on my life that I will never hurt him intentionally when there is any other option. I don't know that this phrase means much to you, but I am in love with him."

Draco nodded and sank back into his chair. "You know about my… situation, then?"

"I know pretty much everything. I can't pretend to know it all, but Severus and I are both skilled leglimens and being inside one another's minds is an incredibly intense, arousing-"

"Whoa!" Draco interrupted, hastily stuffing his fingers in his ears. "Parent figure here! Do _not_ want to know!"

Lucy laughed lightly and also sank back into the chair. "For the record," she added after an easy moment's silence - the first since Draco's arrival - "Eileen likes me."

Before Draco could utter a response to that surprising piece of information - Eileen was very protective over her boys, making up for the years when she hadn't protected Severus - Severus returned to the room, arms laden with a tray holding tea things and a file of parchment and a letter. The glare he still wore as he entered disappeared as he noted the tension in the room was no where near as high as it had been when he'd left.

"Got the threats out of your system, Draco?" he asked casually, placing down the tray and pouring the tea as Lucy added milk and sugar.

Draco just grinned wryly and accepted his cup. "Now, Severus, you said you had a possible solution to this problem of mine?"

Severus sighed, replaced his teacup on the tray and rubbed his forehead. For news that should be good, his body language was awfully tense and anxious. "Yes, I… _we_ have thought of something."

"I know that the key is coming of age, there are potions and spells…" Draco trailed off and bit his lip.

"With the amount of damage done to your body over the past eleven years, Draco, those spells and potions are far too risky. Any, normal, one hundred percent person would be at risk of a magical overdose if they push their system forward, but you… I can't run the risk of losing you Draco."

Dropping his head, Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Damn, I knew it was too good to be true."

"There's another way of bringing you to age without that risk," Severus said.

Draco's head snapped up and he stared directly into Severus' eyes. There was a moment before he realised the implications, but then the pin dropped. "Marriage," Draco whispered in horror.

Severus nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the blonde. "You don't have to Draco. You can wait a year. I know how you feel about the institution, but…"

Draco let out a humourless laugh. "You're one step ahead, you've done your research."

Severus slid the file across the table to Draco. "'Safe' names. People who are guaranteed not to hurt you or who are sufficiently less powerful than either you or I that you'll run no risk. They're all from rich families or prominent family names."

"Of course." Draco chuckled again, and it was an empty sound. "Is there no other way?"

"Marriage bumps forward the coming of age. But you'll have a partner their who will stabilise the influx of magic. There's no risks at all."

"Except spending the rest of forever with some half-crazed psycho bitch or bastard determined to control every aspect of your life and beat your son to death," Draco shot back bitterly.

Severus tapped the file again. "'Safe' names, Draco." He paused again and took another deep breath, this time as though he were gaining courage. "There is _one_ particularly interesting case…" he hesitated again and picked up the already opened letter. He ran his finger down the paper with the disgusted curiosity someone runs their finger along a dusty surface. Then his arm shot out and he passed the letter to Draco. "Read this," he instructed.

Shooting Severus one last curious glance, Draco turned over the letter and unfolded it carefully before starting to read.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_Please, before you set this alight, I am in desperate need of advice and feel there is no one so involved that I can turn to. And believe me when I say, even if I wish it weren't, you are very much involved._

_Dumbledore is my legal guardian. You probably already know this, bear with me. Since the day Voldemort first died he has had complete control over every aspect of my life. Who I stay with, where I stay, what happens to my money. The family I live with, my mother's sister, her husband and son, (with the exception now of my cousin, who seems finally to have become human) hate me. Have always hated me and made this point startlingly clear. I learnt on my birthday yesterday that the only reason they put up with me was because Dumbledore was paying them. With my money. _

_On top of this, he has been charging me the special circumstances Hogwarts rate fee, despite mine being paid off from moments after I was born. He 'donated' 2000 Galleons of my money to the Ministry earlier this year and about this time last year made an unknown withdrawal of 1500 Galleons. And finally, to dig his grave deeper, he has applied for and won the right to control my finances until such time that I am no longer Harry Potter or Voldemort dies. _

_So, my dilemma. The only plausible option I or my advisor could come up with was for me to marry. I fully expect to die when Voldemort does, so the thought of 'forever' only means a couple of years. Nonetheless, for me to take someone else's name they need to be higher-up than me socially. And they need to be single and not betrothed. As you can imagine, that search produced all of three results. Yourself, Malfoy, and someone whom I believe to be Fudge's aunt. _

_Please, if you have any advice at all, give it to me. I am sick and tired of being fucked over by the old fool and, although I doubt I'd like whatever advice you'd give me, I know it'd be sound. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

"He writes very poorly," Draco said when he was finished, refolding the paper and passing it back.

Severus waited, as though for another comment, but as none seemed to be coming, he asked; "So, what do I tell him?"

Draco sat back and closed his eyes, willing himself desperately not to cry. "I don't know," he whispered, horrified. "I really don't know."


	3. III The Solution

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

**-**

'**Til Death Do Us Part**

Part III - The Solution

-

All things considered, it didn't take Draco very long to come round to the idea of marrying Harry Potter. In fact, it took him little more than a couple of hours.

The portkey transported him back to the Manor at 4 o'clock precisely, as per his mother's instructions. Which meant that by the time Draco had walked up the front steps, through the main doors, passed his jacket to the House Elves, walked through the foyer, down the corridor to his mother's drawing room, it was one minute past and, by his mother's reckoning, officially late. There was nothing quite like the combined effort of tardiness and disobedience to set Narcissa Malfoy off.

Narcissa was the type of woman who's anger was at its most potent, most deadly, when she went quiet. And she was, unfortunately, a quiet type of person. Draco could not remember the last time she'd raised her voice to him. He could remember the last time she'd raised her wand to him, and by the time she had started to cut at his skin for the second time in as many days, Draco decided that anything, even marrying the Light side's precious _Boy-Who-Lived_ had to be better than this.

Narcissa tired quickly of her game of slowly cutting off Draco's skin, perhaps because she had spent so long doing it only the day before. Draco didn't spend long considering her reasoning, he was only grateful for it.

Before she left, Narcissa bent down over the prostrate body of her son and whispered more poisonous words in his ear. "No one," she murmured, "will ever love you, my darling dragon. No one would ever want someone as broken as you." And with that parting shot she wiped the blade of her knife on Draco's forearm, stood slowly, unfolding like a flower blooming from a bud and left the room.

Draco lay a moment, bleeding on the carpet he had heard his mother protect from his blood before he fell. His cheek pressed hard against the smooth quality of the carpet, before he raised himself slowly onto his forearms and his knees. He lowered his head onto his arms, and on all fours, he wept at what he had become - but only for a moment.

He stood, then. Battered, both physically and emotionally, but standing tall, proud. The only bruising on his face this time, was that which was left over from last time. He walked, but did not limp, back to his room. Once there, he summoned one of the house elves.

"Tell him 'yes'," Draco said, then dismissed it.

He stripped down again and exerted what little magical power he'd managed to regain over the past couple of hours to heal the cuts, then bathed them all in the soupy, healing water. Once certain that he was no longer bleeding anywhere, Draco dressed again. This time he chose slightly smarter clothes. Still casual, but the kind of clothes a pureblood was expected to wear when meeting with his betrothed for the first time. Although Draco doubted that Potter would deign to remember the traditions, or even that the brat would try and visit him, he must be prepared.

-oOo-

It was Lucille who received the House Elf's message from Draco, and she did not immediately alert her partner, though she did begin to write the letter to Harry Potter, informing him of what was to happen. Severus soon joined her, confident that he had managed to place a sufficiently powerful stasis charm over the potion he'd been working on to protect it from himself.

Less than ten minutes later the letter was complete and Hedwig, the beautiful white snowy owl that had brought Harry Potter's post, had it tied to her leg and she was flying swiftly southwards to the Weasleys' house, where the letter's intended now resided.

_Dear Harry Potter, _the letter said.

_Speaking as Severus' partner for the past two years, it is my firm belief that he will not marry you, under any circumstances where there is any other option. Beyond that, we can only advice you in the knowledge that we have at hand._

_Unless you wish to have all your money spent instead my Ms Fudge, I would not marry her if I were you. She's renowned as a spend thrift and has a keen political mind. She would make similar claims to those which Dumbledore has made and would claim all of your money as her own. There would be no way to reclaim your money in that situation and a divorce would be a messy, public, very expensive affair during which you'd probably wish you had just left things be._

_As for your third option. Draco Malfoy. Severus and I spoke to him earlier today, after receiving your request and, though he has accepted your proposal, there are a number of matters that must be considered by both parties before your engagement is officially announced. Do not doubt that, in a marriage to Draco, your material well-being is assured. However, emotionally I am not confidant that this union will stand. This is, without a doubt, the best option for both of you, but still I am not certain that this is a _good_ choice, even if it is the only one, besides waiting, that you have._

_But these matters are too personal to be spoken of by letter. I suggest you pay particular attention to Pureblood tradition and use Severus, his mother, and myself as witnesses to your proposal, and our home as the place to do so, as it is the only place Draco is allowed outside of Malfoy Manor._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Lucille J Hash_

It was, perhaps, unconventional for Severus himself not to answer the missive that had been directed at him, but given the circumstances and what Harry thought and felt about his Potions Master the words were a little more reliable if Lucille told them.

At the Weasleys' house, Harry was awaiting a response impatiently, a dozen scenarios and theories rushing through his mind, each less likely and more extravagant than the last. After leaving the bank the weekend prior, Harry had walked - quite literally - into Tonks. She'd scolded him lightly, not meaning a word of what she'd been saying and eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry had taken her to the Ice Cream Parlour, his treat, as an apology, but she'd quickly caught onto his sour mood and had gone out of her way to try and cheer him up.

Fortunately for Tonks and her increasingly cringe-worthy jokes, Mrs Weasley and her two youngest had turned up just then and had successfully managed to distract Harry for a couple of hours, before finishing off his birthday by inviting him to spend the rest of the holiday with them. Harry had wasted no time in accepting and Tonks had Apparated him quickly to and from his relatives home to pick up his things. After taking his things up to Ron's room, he invited all of the Weasleys to the kitchen, so Mrs Weasley could cook at the same time, and tell them what was happening.

The reactions of the Weasleys varied wildly from one to the next. Ginny had suddenly and rathe unexpectedly burst into tears and ran from the room. She had returned about ten minutes after she left looking properly collected and sympathetic for Harry's situation. Harry brushed it aside as a 'girl thing'. The twins had slapped him on the shoulder, but neither seemed particularly surprised, either by Dumbledore's actions or by the only viable options Harry had left. Mr and Mrs Weasley had nodded, as though they'd been expecting something like this and offered their condolences.

Ron's was the only 'normal' response - one that he had expected. Harry's friend had turned that funny purple colour he did when he was extremely angry and couldn't quite remember how to breathe. Then he'd exploded, filling the house with loud, furious expletives as he ranted and paced up and down the room. Only when he started damning Slytherins did Harry shut him up.

"Malfoy and Snape didn't do this, Ron," he reminded. "It's not their fault."

Ron had glared, before recalling why he'd been ranting in the first place, and began yelling once more about Dumbledore. No one seemed particularly eager to stop him. When he had, however, exhausted himself, Harry asked a question that had been nagging at him since he'd told them all.

"How come you don't seem surprised?" he asked Mr Weasley.

The weight of supporting a family of nine appeared momentarily evident in the older man's countenance, before it was gone again. "The Weasleys are purebloods, Harry," Mr Weasley reminded gently. "We are the only purebloods remaining who are not rich. Did you never wonder why?"

Harry frowned - the truth was that he didn't see the world that way. The Weasleys, in his eyes, were rich. They had family. Family they could rely on and trust. On top of that they were Light, fighting for winning this war so the right side won. Harry didn't look at them and think 'poor', the same way he didn't look at Malfoy and think 'rich'.

Mr Weasley sighed heavily. "We believe in the cause, Harry," he said. "We believe that You-Know-Who can not win this war if we want the Wizarding World to survive. Dumbledore was the only real opposition to him, so we put our faith - and our money - in him."

There was a significant pause as Harry continued to stare at him, understanding and shock clear in his eyes.

"It began with a donation here or there to support the cause. It grew and grew. Now we only remain out of debt because my eldest sons earn their own money and no longer rely on us. We pledged everything, including our lives, to the cause."

A loud snapping noise came from by the work surface, that made everyone jump, but it was only Mrs Weasley furiously shopping up a carrot and doing a foul job of it.

A curiously calmness took over Harry then. These people - the best of people - had been cheated out of their money by an old, self-righteous buffoon who thought he had the right to play God. A white-hot heat burned at the back of Harry's head and he pressed his fingers there. Mr Weasley chuckled lightly then, when he saw the movement.

"James - your father - he did the same thing when he got too angry," he explained. "Said he could feel the heat and would try and temper it."

"Yeah, something like that," Harry agreed. He stood suddenly and began pacing from one end of the kitchen to the next, much like Ron had been earlier, except he was silent. His thoughts were wild and unorganised, and it took a moment for him to remember the training that he'd been doing of his mind and find some order among the chaos. The thought he found at the end of it was not what he expected.

In his mind's eye he saw Snape as a teenager, like he'd been in the memory Harry had seen. He saw his father's cruel, taunting face beside Sirius', he saw his mother's attempt, heard the words Snape had said. Then there was a moment of wonder and horror - how had Snape had said those words. He saw it in the boy's eyes - he didn't think of Lily that way. Harry thought of a teenage boy, desperate for acceptance, only be rejected at every turn. Harry saw the Dark Lord as he'd once been tall, dark, handsome and curiously charismatic. Harry heard whispered promises of fame and glory, felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought. And then he knew how Snape had become Voldemort's man.

It had nothing to do with hatred and bitterness - that was something that had festered over years of disservice and loneliness. No, Snape had been practically forced into Voldemort's forces. An outrageous thought occurred to Harry then. What if Dumbledore had planned it that way? Planned Snape's downfall, then guilted him back to the Light side? Was that why the old man trusted the Potions Master so much? It would make sense.

Determined not to fall into aimless speculation, Harry made his decision. Whether Snape was trustworthy or not, what would it hurt to tell him what the Headmaster was up to? Perhaps the older man would even respect him more for being forthright about it. As it was, Harry made his decision to write to him, although he did not get around to it until the following day.

Once he'd sent Hedwig off, telling her to wait however long for a response, he spoke to Mr and Mrs Weasley about what his suddenly much more uncertain future may continue.

"Well, dear, you're hardly the first to fall into the unexpected trap of an arranged marriage, but at least you have a little choice," Mrs Weasley had said.

"_If_ I have a choice," Harry muttered.

"There's always a choice," she scolded lightly. "And Draco's the same age as you - what's to say that the two of you won't be a perfect match?"

"But I wanted a choice!" Harry bit out, scowling furiously. "I never asked for my parents to be killed, for a raving loony to want to kill me, to live in a cupboard. I never asked to be Harry bloody Potter!"

"But you are," Mrs Weasley reminded sharply. "You could always just carry on as you have, I know you don't care for money, why does this mean so much to you?"

Harry considered her question seriously for a moment. "I think it has more to do with my pride," he said finally. "My entire life has been in Dumbledore's hands, so it should have been brilliant. Instead… well, it could have been a lot worse, I suppose."

"But you can't forgive him."

"This isn't just about me, Mrs Weasley-"

"Molly, dear," she interrupted, reminding him as she always did to call her by her first name. As always, he ignored this request with a fond smile.

"-I'm rich, which meant that Dumbledore went to a little length to make sure I was alright, because if I died or disappeared, all of my money and properties would go to the Ministry and he'd no longer have control. But how many others haven't been as lucky? What about you, Mrs Weasley? Your money ran out and now the only reason Dumbledore cares for you at all is because you've offered your lives as well. I can't have that."

"Ever a pioneer for what's right, aren't you Harry?" she stated more than asked. "Now, if your idea is accepted, do you know how you go about the traditional courting procedure?"

Harry baulked. "Courting procedure?"

Mrs Weasley shook her head in exasperation. "Boys!" she cried in exasperation. "You didn't think it would be as simple as 'I need a hubby to help me save the world - fancy the job?' now did you?"

Harry glanced at her hopefully, causing her to laugh.

"Now, as the junior partner in any of these relationships, and also the least prominent family name, you would take the submissive role in the wedding-"

Again Harry baulked and again Mrs Weasley laughed.

"Now, now, I'm not saying you'd be the girl, Harry dear," she corrected him, horrifying images hurrying through his mind's eye. "All that's meant by that is that you would take their surname, not vice-versa, and you will be the one wearing white. Oftentimes the 'dominant' at the ceremony will wear white too in respect for their new partner, to show they are equals, despite their roles. This is a very old ceremony, Harry, and though we accept Homosexual relationships as normal now, even the thought of such would have been strange, even a hundred years ago.

"But, back to the point, your situation is strange because it is essential that you take their name, and yet it is you who are searching for the union. Usually it's the 'dominant' who seeks a partner, does the courting ritual and makes the proposal. It's not unheard of, though. The rules are basically the same. You must visit your prospective partner and state your intentions, offering them a gift of some sort. Kisses are allowed to be exchanged, but nothing heavier than that. The other has a week before they must decide yes or no, and then the time is spent getting to know one another and preparing for the wedding."

"Oh," Harry breathed out, relieved. "Is that it? I thought you were going to tell me I had to do something awful."

Mrs Weasley's eyes danced as she said, "You have to propose before witnesses. They have to say that the bond is consensual and not at all forced on either side. Then you have to meet your fiancé's parents or guardians and seek their permission for the marriage. They do not need to give their blessing, but it would be rude of you not to go."

"I'm doomed!" Harry exclaimed and let his head thunk down on to the table.

The letter had arrived shortly after this interaction and Harry had stared at the words in shock before a bubble of hysterical laughter broke forth. "Draco Malfoy," he sputtered. "The man I'm going to marry!" And promptly run out of the room and hidden himself in the bathroom for half an hour, only emerging when Ginny demanded that he leave so she could use the loo.

Harry had emerged much more collected than when he'd entered and written a quick reply to this Lucille Hash, informing her that he would meet both her, Snape and Malfoy at Snape Manor as soon as he was told when and how to get there. Then he'd sent Hedwig off and went down to inform everyone else.

For some reason that they wouldn't explain, the Weasleys had laughed at what he said he'd written in reply. Instead, Ron had taken Harry up to his room and insisted on getting him to change into slightly more formal wear than the over sized t-shirt and jeans he'd been wearing. By the time Harry had changed into cotton trousers and a button-down shirt, Snape was standing awkwardly in the Weasleys' living room, Hedwig sitting comfortably on one shoulder, and he trying to politely refuse the tea that Mrs Weasley kept offering.

"No, woman! I do not eat in the middle of the afternoon! I'm here to pick up Potter and go. Now leave me be!" he finally snapped out as Harry emerged at last. "There you are, Potter, let's go."

Harry felt as though he should have been angry on Mrs Weasley's behalf for Snape's rude language, but there was a slight desperation in his hope to escape that Harry could empathise for. It did not stop him from snickering quietly at his Professor's discomfort. He didn't think he'd ever seen Snape so relieved to see him.

Snape led him out of the door with only the briefest of farewells and swept forward several paces more before he stopped and turned to stare at Harry. His piercing black gaze swept up and down the sixteen year old, and one of his eyebrows rose. "Well you smartened up a little. I suppose that'll have to do. God forbid if you ever learn to use a comb. Do you have a gift for Draco?"

"Yes," Harry replied, a little affronted that Snape didn't think him even capable of that.

"Do you have it with you?" Snape insisted.

"Yes!" Harry cried out in response, although he did slyly check his pockets to double check. Not so slyly that Snape did not see the movement and smirk knowingly. "Look, I'm just nervous, alright?" Harry blurted, feeling the need to explain. "It's not everyday that a bloke proposes to the guy he's going to spend the rest of his life with."

"And it is not every - 'bloke' as you say - who proposes to his archenemy?"

Harry snorted derisively. "Malfoy's hardly my archenemy, Snape. He's a royal pain in the arse, but I'm afraid he just doesn't compare to Voldemort." He hesitated a moment, before adding, "Or Dumbledore, apparently."

Something flickered in the older man's eyes and Harry though it might have been understanding - but that seemed highly unlikely, since Snape _never_ understood what he did or why. "I think, given the circumstances, you should call him Draco," Snape said.

"I'll let him decide that," Harry retorted, mostly to irritate Snape, but also because that was a point Mrs Weasley had made in her 'courtship tutorials'.

Snape regarded him closely a moment longer before offering his arm. Harry took it and winced against the familiar, horrible sensation of Apparition. They appeared in the rather grand foyer of what Harry presumed to be Snape's home. There, waiting expectantly were two women, neither of whom Harry recognised.

"Mr Potter, my mother, Eileen Snape. Mama, Mr Harry Potter," Snape introduced Harry to the elder, lighter skinned of the two.

Revelling from the shock of hearing his formidable Potions Professor say 'Mama', Harry barely recollected himself in time to bow for the elderly lady and kiss the back of her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he greeted.

Mrs Snape eyed Harry, not unlike her son had done not ten minutes previously, before her expression relaxed and she nodded to herself. "You'll do," she said and smiled winningly up at him. "It'll be nice for Draco to have someone like you, I should imagine. With your past, you'll keep him grounded better than anyone else."

Harry tried to look upon this as a compliment as Snape introduced him to the other lady. "Potter, Lucille Hash. Lucy, Potter."

Again Harry was startled by how casual Snape acted in his own home. He'd never struck Harry as the kind of man who'd call anyone by a nickname.

"Hmm," Ms Hash said as she too regarded Harry. "Call me Lucille," she said after a moment, just before the awkwardness descended. "You may call Severus by his first name whilst your out of school, too. Of course, when he's teaching you, it must be Professor Snape or sir, like it is with anyone else."

"Lucy…" Snape growled in warning, but his partner only smiled at him.

"I don't think he likes you much," Lucille told Harry confidentially, causing Harry to laugh. Whoever this dark-skinned beauty was that had ensnared Snape - _Severus_ - she was certainly not what Harry would expect.

"I rather think he hates me, Ms Hash. And please call me Harry."

"_Lucille_," she insisted. "And I think that if you and Draco help one another he may warm up to you."

"Mrs Weasley's been trying to convince her to call her by her first name for five years, Ms Hash, I'm afraid she's yet to succeed." Harry chose not to address the point about Draco.

Mrs Snape walked up to them and looped an arm through one of Harry's and one of Lucille's, leading them out of the foyer and into a comfortable lounge area. "I'd say you could call me Eileen, but since you, like Draco, seem to insist on such little formalities as that, I'll not bother." She glanced behind herself to see that Snape had not followed and smiled wickedly up at Harry. "Of course, when that son of mine finally put a ring on Lucille here, you may have to change that policy. It'd be far too confusing with two Mrs Snapes around."

Harry did his best not to giggle, but he didn't think he succeeded to well. The embarrassment, however, was nothing compared to Lucille's as she flushed a dark enough red for it to be prominent, despite her equally dark skin. "I'll admit I'm surprised that Snape - _Severus_ -" he corrected himself and grinned, "has someone quite like you."

Lucille laughed brightly. "I know you may not believe me, but he's quite a wonderful man really. Maybe not as handsome as some, but what are good looks compared to a good heart?"

To both of the women's surprise Harry did not scoff at that, rather he nodded and disappeared a moment in to his own thoughts. "I'd been thinking that," he murmured to no one in particular.

Sna- Severus appeared in the door way then with tea for five and followed by Draco Malfoy.

Harry was not blind. Nor was he unobservant. The darker shadow under one eye and the tiredness woven about Malfoy like a blanket did not go missed. Harry knew those symptoms well. What he didn't understand was the extra weight on Malfoy's shoulders, nor how the Slytherin Prince might have come across those injuries.

"What happened to you?" he blurted out before he could help himself and then winced as his words caught up with his brain. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's not really my place to ask, is it?"

"By all means, Potter," Malfoy spat out viciously, "soon it _will_ be your place."

Harry winced again and his shoulders slumped. He should have figured. It was all just words and masks and _lies_. Malfoy hadn't agreed at all. They were Slytherins, the lot of them, and they had played him for a fool. So he stood to leave, trying his best to keep a straight face and not to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do next. "I guess I'll be going then," he told them, not wanting to wait for the laughter. "See ya."

Malfoy didn't laugh as Harry tried to brush past him, he gaped. "What - where do you think you're going?" the blond demanded to know.

"It's a joke, wasn't it?" Harry retorted, not turning back, although he did stop walking. "Some big fucking joke to fool me into thinking that there might be a way to get the bloody bastard back for all the shit he's dragged me through. You'd fool me for a while, perhaps, make me believe there might be an out. Then you'd chuck me back out, face first into all the crap people keep serving me on a golden platter!" The last was shouted, but his shoulders and voice were shaking by this point and those observing didn't think it was because of anger.

"What in Merlin's name are you on about, you Gryffindor git?" Draco shouted back. "_Is _this all just a joke to you?"

Harry did turn back, then, "No!" he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Eileen huffed from her seat. "Then sit, all of you," she demanded, eyeing all three of the men, who were all still stood up. "Now you've gotten that little doubt off your chests, perhaps we can have our tea?" She stood herself and harried each of them to a seat, taking care to make sure Harry was sat next to Malfoy on a relatively small couch. Then she poured the tea and handed everyone their cup.

"Now, Draco, my dear, when are you leaving us?" she asked. Her question was less casual than it might have been, but with Harry their she did not want to give the wrong impression, either way.

"I don't know," Malfoy spoke in a hushed, slightly fearful voice that Harry immediately picked up on. "I didn't say I was going, or where I was going."

The entire room seemed to take in a deep breath, leaving Harry behind, confused by the question and its answer.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Severus asked, the concern in his voice giving Harry's psyche another blow.

Malfoy bit his lip and darted a glance across at Harry. "I had hoped…" he trailed off.

"You plan to accept straight away?" Eileen asked, a little surprised.

"I thought I'd accepted already, really," Malfoy corrected her quietly.

Harry didn't understand what the rest of the conversation was about, but he did understand the bit about acceptance. He considered for barely a moment before he turned to his right to look at Malfoy's profile. He nudged the slightly older boy to gain his attention and was not surprised by the curious hostility in the grey gaze.

Hesitating for only a moment, Harry cupped the blond boy's cheek in one hand, rubbing his cheek gently with his thumb and smiling a very tiny bit. They didn't love each other, didn't even like each other, but Harry would do this the right way insofar as he could. He slid down off the couch to kneel before Malfoy and groped in his pocket for the gift he had decided to give.

"I know we're hardly conventional," Harry started, and closed his eyes, blushing a little under the shocked but intense gazes of all the other occupants of the room. "And I know that it's conventional to get a ring, but that seemed like such a - such a… well, a _gay_ thing to do, and didn't think you'd appreciate it much, so I tried to work out what else you might like and -"

"Potter," Malfoy interrupted. "You're babbling," he informed him, not unkindly.

"I know," Harry responded, blushing deeper. "I'm not great at speeches. But, the point I'm making is - well, Draco Lucius Malfoy, will you marry me?" and presented the gift.

Mrs Weasley had told him it was important to say his full name, that it made the magic more secure in recognising the right person to betroth him to. Harry didn't think there'd be many other 'Draco's about, but decided to go along with it. She had also told him that his thought of not getting a ring was probably a good thing and not at all strange. Many couples choosing this method of marriage did not use an engagement ring to seal the deal. The gift, however, did have to be something that would last and, generally, was something small enough that the receiver could carry it about their person without it being bothersome.

It had taken Harry a great deal of time to think of something appropriate, of two things, really, as he had been prepared for either of the Slytherins accepting. But the gift he had presented to Malfoy was, in the end, something he had already owned, rather than something expensive. It was the miniature Hungarian Horntail that Harry had picked out of the bag, prior to the First Task in fourth year.

The charm that made the dragon move still worked as well as it had when Harry had first picked it out, although the dragon seemed less mean than it had been initially. It still occasionally set fire to Harry's socks, but Harry thought that was probably because he could not let the Horntail live on his bedside table whilst at the Dursleys and instead parcelled her up and hid her away. Given Draco's name, though, and the rumoured passion Malfoy had for his namesakes, Harry thought that it was an entirely appropriate gift, and far more personal than anything else he could think of.

Malfoy cupped his hands carefully and allowed the dragon to stalk pompously across from Harry's hands to his own. The Horntail let out a brief cry, that Harry had learnt was satisfaction, and nipped politely at Malfoy's fingertips.

Malfoy jumped slightly, but not enough to severely upset the Horntail. "You've given me a present that will try and kill me, Potter, is this how the rest of our lives is going to go?"

Harry found himself laughing at the comment, rather than fuming. "I never took you for a wimp, Malfoy," he shot back. "She won't hurt you - not really. Might try and set fire to your socks, but there's not enough magic in the charm to do any proper harm."

"Where did you get her?" Malfoy asked, holding the dragon closer to his face to inspect her more closely.

"For the First Task in the Triwizard Tournament," Harry explained. "They passed around a bag with four mini dragons in it. The one we chose was the one we had to fight. This little beauty was my pick."

Malfoy glanced up sharply. "You chose the hardest dragon to defeat? Are you really that pompous, Potter, or are you just stupid?"

"I hardly had a choice!" Harry snapped. "I was the last to be passed the bag. There was only one left. Besides, we couldn't see which one we were picking."

Malfoy returned his attention to the dragon, but everyone seemed to sense the change of mood and the uncertainty still lurking behind his eyes. There was a moment of indrawn breath were no one dared to release it before Malfoy said, "Yes. Yes, I suppose… I suppose I will marry you, Harry James Potter."

And, for some strange reason, Harry couldn't help but smile.

-

_To be Continued…_

_-_


	4. IV Draco's Dad

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

-

**'Til Death Do Us Part**

Part IV - Draco's Dad

-

_There was a moment of indrawn breath were no one dared to release it before Malfoy said, "Yes. Yes, I suppose… I suppose I will marry you, Harry James Potter."_

_And, for some strange reason, Harry couldn't help but smile._

He leant up on his knees and, carefully avoiding the miniature dragon, cupped Malfoy's cheek again. Then he leant up further, gently persuading Malfoy's head down and they shared a very brief, sweet and entirely chaste kiss. If Harry had been in love he might have been disappointed in the lack of spark that the kiss provided. Instead, he was content in the knowledge that at least it had not been repulsive. Some small part of him was pleased that he still might have someone he could kiss later in life, if nothing else. The thought of anything but monogamy was not to be bourn. And not just because of his 'Gryffindor sensibilities' but also due to the ceremony they had to use.

"Huh," Malfoy said when Harry leant away again, dropped his hand and moved to sit back on the couch, rather than remaining on the floor. "So it's true what they say - you're not a bad kisser."

Harry resisted the urge to punch Malfoy on the shoulder. "I've only kissed one person before you - how can the magnanimous 'they' know at all?"

"Really?" Malfoy asked, surprise obvious on his usually impassive face. "Only one person?"

"Why would I lie about that? And yes, only one person. That was when I knew I was gay. Or , rather, Hermione told me I was gay."

Curiosity getting the better of him Malfoy asked, "You kissed Granger? And she thought you were that bad a kisser that she decided you were gay?"

"No, ew, Hermione's like a sister to me. I kissed Cho. Hermione decided I was gay when I described it as 'wet'." Perhaps Harry shouldn't have said anything, because what he had said seemed to only make the others laugh at him. "How about you?"

"I can work it out for myself, thank you very much," Malfoy said pompously, sticking his nose in the air and trying to look like he had more of a stick up his ass than usual. "I don't need Granger to tell me."

"No, I mean - how did you know you prefer guys?"

"I know what you meant, Potter," Malfoy replied, with a long suffering sigh. "And it's not that I like men more, more that I don't like women as much."

Harry didn't even try and tell his new fiancé - and that was a weird thought - that what he'd just said didn't make sense. He'd just nodded wisely, picked up his cup of tea again to drink some more of the rapidly cooling liquid.

Malfoy was laughing at him again and Harry paused for a moment to consider the sanity of the entire fiasco he had plunged head first into. If he talked, he was laughed at, if he said nothing, he was laughed at. "So, uh," Harry struggled, "Did you, um, want me to talk to your parents about this? I mean, it'll take me a couple of days for me to arrange to go to Azkaban, but the Minister owes me a favour, so I'm sure that it won't take too long. We could… talk to your mother later?"

Inexplicably, Malfoy shivered.

"You alright?" Harry asked him, already knowing that the answer he'd get would be a lie. Not anyone would have been able to notice the signs of abuse, but Harry had personal experience with it and felt certain that Malfoy's home life was not the spoilt life style of a prince, as he tried to convince everyone that it was. In fact, Harry was starting to suspect that Malfoy's abuse was far worse than his own had been.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Malfoy lied. "You'd… are you seriously going to visit Azkaban to see my father - a man who's tried to kill you before - to ask for my hand in marriage? A marriage that's only happening so that we - you, I mean - can legally become an adult? You know that you don't _need_ his permission, right?"

"I know," Harry said quietly. "I also know that you are close to your father. I wouldn't take away his only child without at least letting him know."

"You shouldn't believe everything the rumour mill says, Potter," Malfoy answered scornfully. "Besides, you're hardly 'taking me away', as you put it."

"I know you're close because of your reaction when he was put in prison," Harry told him. "And the pride with which you talk about him. Malfoy, don't you think someone would notice that despite all the 'family is everything' you Malfoys talk of, you never say anything about your mother? There was more than anger in your voice when you yelled at me about putting your father in Azkaban. There was fear." Harry was adlibbing here - to be honest he couldn't remember that afternoon days before they left Hogwarts for the summer holidays all that well. He had been broken with grief at the time.

Ignoring the suddenly even paler than usual shade of Malfoy's skin, Harry leant closer and looked unblinkingly into silver-grey eyes. "What does she do to you?"

Malfoy did the only thing, then, that he knew how to do when cornered. He lashed out. Carefully manicured fingernails left four shallow red marks running across one of Harry's cheeks, but the boy-hero did not stop staring at him, so Malfoy lashed out with words instead. "What ugly rumour have they been spreading about me, then, Potter? What tale of horror and sympathy do they think has turned me into the excuse of a human being you see before you now? What did you tell, them, Potter? That you'd take pleasure in fucking me like the little whore they all think I am?"

Harry caught Malfoy's hands, that had been flailing about as his rant grew ever more hysterical. "You have a bruise under one eye, Malfoy. You sit awkwardly like you've been hurt and it hasn't healed fully yet. You have heavy secrecy wrapped about you that these people who love you know about and I, an outsider, don't. You flinch at the thought of your mother and could not stand the thought of returning home and yet you marvel at me going to see your father. '_They_' know nothing. I only figured it out just now. I haven't told anyone anything."

The blond collapsed a little under that admission, falling in on himself. "I guess the engagement's off then, since I'm _damaged goods_?" Malfoy murmured self-deprecatingly.

"That would be rather hypocritical of me," Harry replied, just as bitterly.

At Malfoy's sharp glance, Harry hastened to explain. "It was nothing really bad, just… they forgot to feed me sometimes. They gave me a proper bedroom when I turned eleven, though."

"You-" Malfoy didn't seem to have the words to say what he wanted to. "If you're lying to me…"

"You thought I had the childhood everyone thought you had," Harry replied, shooting a rueful glance at Severus, who besides his partner and mother, was watching with silent interest. "I never had a friend before Ron, Malfoy. That's why I said 'no' to you - you insulted the first friend I ever had. Well, that and you were a snotty little git."

"Like you were so much better," Malfoy responded, unthinkingly reacting to the teasing challenge in Harry's voice. The one thing that really cheered Harry up was Ron and Hermione just being his normal, slightly strange friends. Perhaps it was strange, but insulting Malfoy was something he was used to - something normal and comfortable - and it might cheer him up.

"I was amazing!" Harry shot back, automatically. "For 'damaged goods' we were bloody brilliant! I even managed to best a giant killer snake trying to eat my best mate's little sister when I was twelve."

"Liar," Malfoy said scornfully.

"It's true!" Harry objected. "Gin disappeared, was taken into the Chamber and Ron and I had a flash of inspiration. We caught Lockhart trying to make a break for it, so we took him down to the Chamber with us. Cast a bloody memory charm that made the whole tunnel collapse, him and Ron stuck on the other side. So I make my way down, and there's Ginny lying there collapsed with Riddle's diary by her. When Riddle appears out of nowhere I know that something's up - I mean, besides the whole killer-snake thing.

"Anyway, I'm there telling him she's dying and there's a Basilisk around some place, and what the hell is he doing just standing there when it turns out that Riddle _is_ Voldemort -" Harry continued in the same excited, bumbling vein as he retold the rest of that evening, Malfoy and the others listening to him intently.

Finally, when Harry was finished, Malfoy said, "You really like it, don't you? The saving people stuff."

Harry looked slightly puzzled when he answered. "I don't mean to have to be the one who has to save people, it just ends up that way. Sometimes in trying to save someone, I just end up getting them killed instead."

"Yeah, but when you're actually saving someone - when there's some great ugly monster who's fighting you and you could die at any second - you love that, don't you?" Malfoy persisted.

"Under that definition you just called your father a 'great ugly monster' you know that, right?" Harry teased, but Malfoy just groused and told him to answer the question. "I don't have anything to live for, really. Especially since I know that I have to die now anyway, does it matter how I go out so long as it's fighting? Besides, I've met my parents and I'm kinda looking forward to seeing them again."

"You selfish bastard!" Malfoy suddenly roared, surprising the life out of Harry. "Nothing to live for? You die and hope that the 'Light' side wins dies too! Live for all of your bloody innocents! Live for the freckled red-heads you call family, for Weasel and Granger. At the bloody least, live until we're married!"

"I'm not trying to kill myself, Malfoy," Harry hushed him, tone almost patronising, although not intentionally so. "Dumbledore told me the prophecy. I'm not going to live to see the end of the war. Knowing that, why wouldn't I risk my life trying to save those I love?"

"Just so long as we're clear that I'm not one of your fucking innocents, fine! See if I care!" Malfoy fumed at him, and turned sharply away, wincing at his own sudden movement.

Harry couldn't stay angry at the blond for long, though. If he had the capacity to hold grudges against Malfoy, he wouldn't be able to say a word to the other boy without blowing up in his face - it just wasn't worth the effort. So he took another sip of his tea, grimaced at the chill and replaced the cup on the tray. Then he glanced up, across at the three adults who had been watching the entire interaction without saying a word.

"Well?" he asked. "After listening to that, do you think we stand a chance?"

Eileen was the one who answered first, and she chuckled quite happily. "Oh, I think you boys'll do each other just fine," she reassured them, before gathering the rest of the tea things and leaving the room.

Next, Lucille; "You kids are cute," she told them. "It's a classic pigtail scenario."

Harry didn't know what she meant by that, but like earlier decided it would be safest if he didn't ask. Instead he looked at Severus.

The formidable Potions Master stared at both of them emotionlessly, unblinkingly. After a moments longer contemplation he nodded once. "Hurt him, Potter, and don't doubt that you will be skinned alive."

"I can't promise not to hurt him, sir, we're too different for that. I will do my best to not do so intentionally, though," Harry swore, trying not to compare his promise with selling his soul to the devil. "Although, since you've said that, I guess I know what you'd want for Christmas." Harry's eyes slid over to Draco's black eye and he allowed a spark of strangely protective anger to show.

Severus did not show any emotion, other than nodding once in acceptance. Eileen and Lucille winced and turned away slightly, understanding but not deigning to pay a part of that. Malfoy did not catch the exchange, still sat stiffly at the other end of the couch, head turned stubbornly away from Harry. Fearing that he had overstayed his welcome, Harry stood stiffly, his knees protesting against sudden movement after being held in a kneeling position for so long.

"I suppose I should better go now then. I will visit your father as soon as I can, Draco," he promised, and turned to leave, startling when a thin hand wrapped itself tightly around his wrist.

"Don't," the blond croaked. "You need - you need to meet my mother first. You can't let me go back there alone-" then, as if only just realising the weakness in his posture and tone, Draco stood sharply, back straight and chin tilted in a familiar, arrogant angle, though uncertainty lingered still in his eyes. He did not let go of Harry's wrist. "I will not allow you to leave without meeting her."

Harry met his eyes, bright green burning through Draco's own and he winced, before he came to understand that Harry's anger was not for him, but for his mother. And he felt as though he might smile.

"I am not going to leave you alone with her," Harry told Draco, this back-and-forth conversation of orders amusing their onlookers. "So I have to leave you with people I know love you so that when I return I can stay."

"You will stay," Draco ordered him. "Get your things, and then stay. There are more than enough rooms at the manor to house you and twenty other guests."

"Yes." And then Harry left and Lucille had to hide her face in a cushion to keep from laughing out loud.

When Severus and Draco both looked at her in confusion, a giggle escaped her as she answered simply, "boys!" And then left the room, trailing Eileen and the tea things.

Draco then turned to his would-be-godfather and asked, "What do you think of him, honestly?"

Severus considered the question carefully for a long moment before he started to reply. "He will hold true to the marriage vows. He will honour and protect you - love you maybe. His pride will not allow for anything else. Whether this union will ultimately be a good thing? Merlin only knows. Your life will certainly never be boring."

"What about Father? What will he think?"

"Knowing Potter, you'll be able to ask him yourself before too long. He is just now realising that there are consequences beyond the immediate ones and will struggle to right those wrongs, like the heroic Gryffindor he is."

Draco smiled at the thought of seeing his father again, but after allowing himself a moment's daydream, he returned to the conversation. "I think you're wrong, Severus. I think he's always known that there are less seen, but greater felt consequences before. He just hasn't had time to stop and consider them before now. This war and Dumbledore have simply not given him a chance to breath since he first set foot in Hogwarts."

Severus frowned as though he did not agree, but he said nothing more on the subject. Draco and Harry had reached a neutral ground fairly early on and he was not about to upset that because of his own opinions. He did not trust Harry, but he did trust in Gryffindor sensibilities and knew that if Draco and Harry could keep from fighting each other, they would make a formidable partnership.

-oOo-

Harry was humming softly as he finished packing and a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. It was strange, in many ways, that he was as happy about this arrangement as he was, but he was content to settle with happy and not worry too much about the whys and the hows. Before, Draco was a school yard rival, a spoiled little brat who looked to follow tightly in his father's footsteps and become the prodigy of the dark side. Now he was another teenage boy trying to find his way. Harry knew Draco would hurt him if he admitted this, but the blond was someone he could be a hero for. Harry knew how to be a hero, so suddenly he knew how to act around Draco.

Hopefully, as they got to know one another better, by the time Draco didn't need saving anymore, Harry would know how to act around him. Well, without seriously offending him all the time at least.

Tucking the last corner of a shirt into the not-particularly tightly packed space, Harry slammed the lid down on his trunk and dragged it down the stairs of the Burrow before leaving it at the front door.

"Are you really marrying Draco Malfoy?" Ginny asked, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen and watching with amusement.

Harry grinned ruefully at her. "Seems so." They looked awkwardly at each other before he shrugged. "Gin, I know that… I mean I've… I'm sorry. I know it's going to be awkward between us for a while, and I really wish it wasn't, but…"

Ginny chuckled, cutting him off. "Harry, it's OK. And I refuse to let it be awkward between us. We never got anywhere and, truth be told, I don't think we ever would."

"What with me being gay and all…"

Now Ginny laughed properly. "Yeah, that too. But, hey, introduce me to Malfoy sometime, will you? I hear he's friends with the cute Spanish looking guy in your year."

Harry drew her into a hug and squeezed her tight. "Thanks, Gin, you're great, you know that?"

"Of course!" she replied, before escaping his arms and breathing again. She winked and waved as he stepped into the floo, disappearing off to the Ministry.

Harry landed in the communal floo port and quickly moved out of the way, hurrying through the atrium so as not to draw too much attention to himself. Merlin only knew what the press would make of it if they saw him at the Ministry after the fiasco he'd caused there a couple of months earlier. He went up to one of the many desks and asked for directions towards the ministers office.

"I'm afraid I can't give you an appointment with the Minister, sir, but you can see one of his under secretaries. When do you wish for the meeting to take place?" the busty blonde asked, without looking up from her nails, that she was charming various shades of pink - in apparent search of the best colour for her complexion.

Harry leaned forward and closed the appointment book that lay open and unused on her desk with a bang, causing the clerk to look up in surprise. "He'll see me. The Minister's been trying to arrange a chat for a while and I've finally found some free time." He smiled disarmingly and winked. It was so much easier flirting with people he didn't actually like.

"Ce-certainly, Mr Harry Potter, sir," she stuttered in an uncanny impression of Dobby the house elf. "This way please," she continued, standing quickly and almost toppling back over due to her stiletto heels. But, despite her initial incompetency, she led Harry rapidly through the hallways and down the Ministry lifts without too many questions about his life, beyond a 'I hope you're well, sir?' In fact, Harry found it easy to talk to her, and made a personal memo to search her out again if he needed anymore assistance at the Ministry.

When he arrived at Minister Fudge's office, he was faced with yet another blonde, high-heel bearing woman, although this one was much less likely to become a model than the last. She, too, insisted that he could not see Fudge, until she realised who he was and showed him straight through. Slightly disgusted at how easy it was to get in, considering he could have been anyone under polyjuice, Harry entered without knocking.

"Ah, Harry, my boy!" Fudge said jovially, reminding Harry for a scary moment of Dumbledore. But then the teenager remembered who had the power in this particular conversation, and regained his equilibrium.

"I'm sorry, Minister, but before we have our long-awaited chat, there is something I really need you to do for me."

Fudge smiled, and waved a hand at the seat opposite him. "Take a seat, Harry. Now, I know that I owe you a great deal, so whatever I can do to help you, will be done as quickly as possible."

Harry smirked for a moment before letting the bomb drop; "I want you to free Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban Prison, and drop all charges filed against his name."

The minister paled several shades before Harry felt it prudent to explain himself a little further.

"I have recently entered a marriage contract with his son and heir, Draco Malfoy, and wish for my future father-in-law to be released. Although I cannot reveal to you the specifics without betraying the trust of my soon to be family, I will tell you that I have been led to believe that Lucius is in fact only guilty of being under a coercion curse of some sort."

Fudge hesitated for quite a while, his shock fading to an emotionless expression that prompted Harry to understand how Fudge had become such a successful politician - with a poker face like that!… "Will you take responsibility for this person's action for this and the next five months?"

"Certainly," Harry responded without hesitation, knowing if there had been any of the sort, the Minister would have pounced on it immediately.

The older wizard nodded, once, seriously, and summoned some papers to his desk. "He will have to remain under house arrest until I can pass this off as a consulted decision, and not just a spur-of-the-moment release."

"Anything said in this room will remain in this room," Harry replied, smirking again. "That, of course, covers you as well. I do not wish for the press to know of my engagement until after the wedding. Draco and I wish for family and close friends to be present only."

Fudge continued writing rapidly, before signing the bottom with an extravagant swish of his quill and then passing it over to Harry. "If you'd sign the bottom, you may travel immediately to Azkaban to free him."

"So soon?" Harry asked, momentarily looking just as surprised as he felt, before regaining control of his facial expressions.

"I trust this will settle anything I owe you for calling you a liar all of this last year?" Fudge said, smiling.

Harry grinned back, and nodded, adding his own signature. "We still need to have that conversation, Minister."

"Please, Harry, call me Cornelius. Given your political potential, I think there is much we can do to help one another."

"We shall see," was all Harry said in reply, still wary of the other man. Fudge was manipulative and had always seemed to Harry as a bit of a dunderhead, but perhaps there was more intelligence there than he had originally picked up on? "I shall owl you," he said in farewell, before turning sharply on his heel and leaving the Minister.

-oOo-

Harry shuddered as he passed through the inner wards surrounding Azkaban prison, and tightened his grip on his wand under the expansive cloak he was wearing. The all-too familiar coldness of nearby Dementors swept over him and he blinked once, swiftly, to subtly shake the sudden imbalance he felt. It was a bizarre experience, well, the whole day was really. But to be going to Azkaban to free a man he had helped put there in the first place… very bizarre.

The boat knocked against the cold stone port and Harry scrambled out, showed his papers to the guards and said nothing as they spat on the paper.

"Harry Potter my arse," one said through a thick Scottish accent. "You're too wee to be an 'ero."

"Freein' prisoners ain't exactly 'ero work," his friend agreed.

Nonetheless, the two of them showed him through into Azkaban. The prison was terrifying in many ways. It was huge and grey and deadly looking. The corridors stank of human refuse, great howls and screams echoing around forgotten cells. In several cells Harry passed he could have sworn the occupant was already dead. He only hoped and prayed and Malfoy had made it through a little better than insane.

When they finally did make it to Malfoy's cell it took the guard longer than the twenty minutes it had taken to walk there to find the correct key. And with a great clanking and clattering of metal and stone, the door was finally opened for Harry to walk inside.

Lucius Malfoy was standing tall and proud by the time they got in, though his grey, tattered clothes hung of him like rags, so worn through Harry could see quite clearly how little Malfoy had been eating during his stay.

"Potter," he greeted coolly.

"Lord Malfoy," Harry responded, and bowed. "I'm here with two important tasks."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but otherwise did not respond, his face a cool, immaculate mask of emotionlessness.

Harry smiled a little, encouraged by this. That damn Malfoy pride had not broken. "The first is to ask you for your son's hand in marriage." There was a muttered curse from behind him as one of the guards swore in disbelief.

"He does this of his own free will?" Malfoy asked.

"He does this to save himself from the wrath of his mother. Someone from whom you should have been able to protect him," Harry retorted.

In a second, Malfoy's hands were around his neck and he'd smashed Harry back against the wall. "You know nothing," he hissed.

Harry's wand slipped out and pressed against the ribs of his soon to be father-in-law. "I know enough." Malfoy dropped his hands and took a stumbling step back. Then Harry grinned brilliantly at him. "I'd have sorted her out already, except you were rotting in Azkaban, and I thought it best to try and save your sanity first. Draco was perfectly willing to forgo the permission of both parents, but I knew he held your opinion too highly in his regard to forgive me if I did not at least ask."

"Why?" Malfoy rasped. "Why bother? Why marry him?"

Harry explained briefly what had happened over the past week, then how the marriage would benefit both himself and Draco.

Malfoy regarded Harry seriously, before nodding, once. "Very well. You have my blessing."

"Excellent. The second very important task," Harry paused dramatically and winked at the older wizard. "You're free."

"What?" Malfoy stuttered, mask falling momentarily as his eyes widened perceptibly.

"Free," Harry repeated. "I came here, today, to free you from Azkaban. Of course, you're under house arrest and I had to promise to keep you under surveillance, but no more Dementors, poor food rations, bad clothes… and you get to see your son again."

Malfoy sneered at him, "Just in time to see him marry a Gryffindor, _joy_."

Harry shrugged, then tossed the spare cloak at Malfoy. "Let's go," he offered, and waited for the blond to leave the cell.

The passage back to the boat seemed to take even longer than his arrival had been, and Harry could see that keeping his back straight and standing proud, was costing Malfoy more than he was willing to let on. He stepped a little closer to the older wizard's side and, invisible under the expansive cloak, gripped his elbow in support. Malfoy didn't even turn to look, through his step hesitated for a moment. Then he moved his arm to grip Harry's in return and he seemed a little more sure of himself.

When they eventually received Malfoy's belongings and passed the outer walls, Harry did not wait before apparating them out, and to the edge of the Weasleys' grounds.

"Excuse me for a moment while I run and fetch my belongings," Harry said, finally letting go of Malfoy's elbow.

But, before he let Harry go, Malfoy gripped the brunet's chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger and angled it higher. "Malfoys do not run," he corrected. "We _hasten_."

Harry grinned and tilted his head in acknowledgement. Then he stepped out of Malfoy's grip and rushed along the road to the Burrow, barrelling into Fred - or was it George - as he charged through the open door to grab his trunk.

"Harry!" cried whichever twin it was and hugged him tightly. "We heard what was happening - have you made a break for safety? Finally coming to your senses and leaving those blond gits behind?"

"Speaking of," the other twin butted in. "How did you get them to agree with your black mop? Aren't you a little dark for them?"

"And a little _light _for the tastes in other areas?"

Harry stared at them uncomprehendingly for a moment, before ducking out of their reach and grabbing his things. "Er… long story, and Malfoy senior is waiting outside your wards for me to return, so I have to go." And then he made a dash for the door, sidestepping ambushing red-heads along the way. "Nice seeing you guys, I'll visit you soon!" he called out behind him as he raced away.

"Send as an invite to the wedding!" George - or was it Fred - yelled out in reply.

Harry skidded to a stop, still chuckling, before Malfoy.

"What did I say about running?" he scolded, frowning.

"I wasn't running," Harry denied immediately, doing his best to look innocent. "I was making tactical retreat."

For a moment longer Malfoy lingered on the verge of anger, before a spark of amusement destroyed the image and Harry grinned brightly at him.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Mr Potter, I believe it was you whom we were waiting for," Malfoy replied.

"Please, call me Harry." And then they disapparated.

-

_To be Continued..._

-


	5. V A Gryffindor

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

-

'Til Death Do Us Part

Part V - A Gryffindor

-

Harry and Lucius arrived with a soft pop outside the Prince manor house's gates and moved swiftly inside the building. The house elves, understanding that Harry was soon to be leaving, directed him simply to place his bags by the door. They were then led from the main foyer into the lounge area that Harry had been shown to before. Draco was no longer there, and Lucille and Eileen were still somewhere else, but Snape - _Severus_ - was there.

The austere man was about as close to relaxed as he ever got, although there was still an edge of tenseness to the stiffness in the way he held himself. He was almost curled up on one of the sofas - although he should protest to such a description if he ever heard it - his boots unlaced and abandoned on the floor and his feet tucked neatly underneath him, one long-fingered hand holding up the book he was reading, nimbly flicking the pages at periodic intervals whilst the other hand held a mug of hot tea.

Despite the anxiety that still hinted at being present - probably due to Draco's situation and Harry's rather abrupt arrival and departure - he was a picture of contentment. That image shattered, though, as soon as Harry and Lucius entered. For a moment there was silence: stillness. The next, both book and mug were calmly being placed on a coffee table and Severus was racing across the room until the two men were embracing tightly, Harry's presence momentarily forgotten.

"Dear Merlin, Luke, it's good to see you again," Severus said, arms still tight around his best friend.

"You've no idea, Severus," the blond replied, his grip tightening for a second, before both men let the other go and step back.

"You look like shit," Severus informed Lucius brazenly.

Lucius' chuckle when it came, cracked slightly and drew from him a hacking cough that had both Severus and Harry looking at him in concern. "I'm fine," he insisted.

Harry eyed him with eyebrows raised. "Regardless, a medical professional will be called to see to you. You've been in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors for well over two months now. It would be remiss of me not to call a healer."

The blond considered for a moment, but conceded before too long, registering that the look in Harry's eyes meant that he would not back down on this matter. "Very well. Do not use the Malfoy Healer, my wife-" he cut himself off and looked away. But nothing more needed to be said anyway.

"Would Hogwarts' Healer suit you?" Harry asked, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Poppy's a bit of a dragon, but I trust her."

"_Poppy_?" Severus asked caustically.

"I'm in and out of the Hospital Wing often enough, Severus - you should know - she told me that I might as well call her by her given name."

"She wouldn't mind giving up her holiday?" Lucius questioned. Harry thought he might have seen - what? Concern? Anger? - in the man's expression, but it was gone as soon as it came, so he could not say for sure.

Harry smiled a little. "One afternoon hardly counts as 'giving up her holiday' and she's in Cornwall, not the other side of the world."

"Very well then," Lucius agreed, nodding once.

"Where is Draco, Severus?" Harry said next, turning back to his Potions Professor.

"I believe he has retired to the library. He is anxious as to what the outcome of today might be and reading soothes his nerves."

"Lucius, you need to clean yourself up before you see him again. I don't think it'll do Draco any good to see you like this. And you need to look like a pureblood prince before we go to face your darling wife. Even if you still feel like shit, you need to look like it didn't bother you at all."

"Mr Potter," Lucius replied coldly. "I am a Malfoy. I am well aware of how much power there is in appearances. I have been a politician longer than you've been alive."

"Yeah, and your wife has been doing one over you for even longer than that," Harry shot back. "I don't like Draco much, yet, Mr Malfoy, but if anyone should so much as _wish_ him ill…" he trailed off, the threat clear in his eyes. But then the burning emerald eyes lowered and a certain softness came to them. "I've never had a family before that I can truly call my own sir. You've seen the lengths I'll go to to protect my friends. But Draco's going to be my _husband_. You're going to be my _father_." Harry took a deep breath and shuddered almost imperceptibly, as though these facts he was stating with such depth and clarity where only now touching him, too.

Lucius raised a hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder. He squeezed it once, comfortingly, before his other hand moved to tilt his chin back up. "You are to be a Malfoy, Po-_Harry_. Do not lower your eyes to anyone. Do not slouch. Stand tall. Stand proud." It wasn't forgiveness, or a declaration of love, but it was a formal acceptance. And more than that, it was an acknowledgement of who and what Harry was, of the familial duty that had always been prominent in Malfoys and of how appropriate Harry was for that role.

"He has always been proud," Severus muttered from by their side.

Harry beamed at his Professor and gave an exaggerated bow. "If you'll excuse me, could I use your floo?"

Severus sighed and indicated the large fireplace. "Help yourself. I shall show Lucius to one of the guest rooms. I'm sure I have some appropriate clothes around somewhere." He eyed his friend and nodded. Once, Severus' things would have been too small for Lucius, as he had never eaten properly and Lucius made sure to exercise regularly. But after several months of near-starvation, Lucius was about Severus' size.

Twenty minutes later and Lucius was cleaned up and had been seen to by Poppy Pomfrey, who had assured him no matter how old he got, he would always be just another errant student to _her_. She had prescribed him a number of nutrients potions, a bruise salve and some foul-smelling potion that would help with the cough he had developed. After making Lucius swear to taking his medication, she stayed only long enough to wish Harry a Happy Birthday before returning to her holiday.

Harry considered that an appropriate time to go and fetch his intended. Severus gave him directions to the library and Harry found the room with next to no trouble. When he entered it was to see a scene quite similar to the one he had found Severus in earlier, with Draco curled up in an armchair, an open book resting on his lap where it had slipped from his fingers. He was fast asleep, head bowed towards his knees in a loose foetal position and there was something very vulnerable about the teenager.

Quietly, so as not to alarm him, Harry made his way across the plush carpet of the room, and placed a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder. The blonde boys eyes snapped open and, for a moment, he was a lost child, disorientated and confused. Then he regained his bearings and his eyes shuttered.

"You're back," he murmured tiredly.

"Yes," Harry responded simply, lifting the book from Draco's lap, slipping the bookmark to the right page and setting it down on a nearby table. "I have good news for you."

Draco unfurled from his position, stretching languidly and then standing with a grace akin to that of a cat. The thought of Draco as a tiny blonde kitten with large, disarming blue eyes made Harry smile, and not because of how much he could tease Draco. "Have you spoken to my mother?" he asked.

"Not yet. I wanted your entire family behind me when I did."

The slightly taller boy huffed in disbelief and looked down his nose at Harry. "That is not possible, Potter, and you know well why not."

Harry grinned. "I know of no such reason. I spent all afternoon making sure there _was_ no such reason."

There was a tense moment during which Draco did not respond, but then understanding hit him and his eyes grew wide and astonished. "You -"

"I," Harry replied, smiling smugly and unabashedly.

"I had hoped, and Severus thought you might, but my father is actually -"

"He is not completely free," Harry cut in quickly, not wanting Draco to be disappointed at a later point in time. "I mean, he's not in Azkaban any more, but he's been restricted to house arrest for the next six months and if he so much as breathes wrong, the Ministry is going to lock him up again, but -"

This time it was Draco who cut Harry off. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, hugging him fiercely, the embrace reminding Harry strongly of the one he had witnessed between Severus and Lucius. "You gave me my father back," the blonde said in soft wonder.

"Well, come on then," Harry replied, the embrace broken but grabbing one of the blonde's hands. "He's waiting for you."

It was a flustered and red faced Draco who burst into the room where his father was talking amiably with Severus and Lucille and there was no room here for Malfoy decorum as father and son stared at one another in amazement, before the space between them seemed to vanish. Draco buried his face in his father's chest, not moving save for the shaking of his shoulders, and Lucius held him tightly, staring up at the ceiling as though trying to get the tears that rolled down his cheeks to roll back into his eyes.

Harry smiled, a much smaller and more discrete smile than the mischievous grin that usually decorated his face, and gloried in the joy he'd been able to bring in this reunion. Severus caught his eye from the other side of the Malfoys and he nodded once, quickly, to show his appreciation. Harry's smile grew a little wider in response. One day. All of this in one day, and it wasn't even over yet.

Draco and Lucius embraced for a long time, but once Draco's shoulders had stopped shaking it was a matter of moments before they stepped back to really look at one another.

"You look thinner," Lucius said, one hand grasping Draco's upper arm as though he was scared Draco might disappear if he didn't hold on.

Draco exhaled sharply in what might have been a laugh if it wasn't so upset. "So do you," he replied.

Lucius stayed silent for a moment, eyes raking his son's face, drinking in every little detail. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, the intensity of his face giving the simple sounding question a hundred different meanings.

"I will be," Draco said, eyes shooting across to where Harry stood patiently beside and behind him.

The elder Malfoy glanced across at Harry as well. "I am free now, do you still think this a wise idea? I can protect you from Narcissa."

Draco gave an involuntary flinch at the sound of his mother's name, and shook his head. "You can protect me for a while, perhaps. Potter can give me everything that I deserve. He can get rid of her."

"We could pay him-"

"Sir," Harry interrupted, irritated by Lucius' desperate attempts to think of an out. "Anything you pay _me_, will go straight into an account controlled by Dumbledore. I am not marrying Draco for his money. I'm marrying him to escape Dumbledore's controlling hand." He paused, allowing bitterness to seep into his eyes and tone. "But don't worry, if all goes as foretold, I shall die in the final battle anyway. You'll only have to put up with me for a couple of years at most."

Then Harry turned sharply away from them and swiftly left the room, sweeping through the Manor and grabbing his broom from among his belongings. Then he burst out the front door, jumping into flight as he did so. Soaring faster and faster he corkscrewed and whirled, diving towards the ground at breakneck speeds, and pulling up at the last moment, letting all of his anger and disappointment be stripped from him by the air.

He should have expected this really. He'd been stupid. He needed Malfoy to escape Dumbledore. He needed the other boy to escape from his relatives, to do what he thought needed to be done to fight Voldemort. Draco only needed him to get rid of his mother and, as soon as Lucius had been free, he had his father to do that instead. Harry wasn't needed. And God forbid that anyone would simply _want_ him around. That wasn't entirely true - his friends wanted him around, mostly, and Harry was sure all of the Weasleys wanted him safe and alive.

There was still that Fudge lady, he supposed. He couldn't even think of approaching Snape - and he was Snape again now, the courtesy of his first name would only have lasted so long as there had been a non-academic relationship - not only because it was _Snape_, but also because the man seemed, if not _happy_, then content with that black-skinned woman, Lucille.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a spark of gold, and instinctively chased after it, twisting and spinning around the numerous chimneys decorating Snape's roof. Then there was a figure racing along beside him, not in green or blue or yellow, but in black with a streak of pale blonde hair. A slow smile grew across Harry's face and all other thoughts left his mind as it became, once again, Potter vs. Malfoy, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. As the rest of the world vanished during a Quidditch match, so it did now, and the two of them raced, evenly matched, over the roofs and through treetops.

Harry caught the snitch first, as he always did, but Draco's hand enclosed around his fist less than a second later. Harry twisted his hand up, so their fingers were clasped, the snitch caught between their palms, its wings beating in vain against them. The two of them slowed to a halt and landed on the front lawn, not letting go of the other. Letting go of his broom, Draco reached across with his free hand to run it through Harry's hair and cup the back of his neck, tugging him forward.

"I'm marrying you," he said fiercely. "You're my age, you're not gold digging and you're bloody gorgeous. I don't like you much yet, but I _will_. And you will love me and spoil me because it's what you do." Draco searched Harry's eyes determinedly, and Harry let him. Then Draco bowed his head that inch difference between them and kissed him.

This was not like their kiss earlier, or like any kiss Harry had ever had before. It was not chaste, nor was it 'wet'. The hands clasping the snitch let go, Harry's to loop under Draco's arms and clutch the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, Draco's to rest tightly on the small of Harry's back. There teeth and tongues and gasps. And when they stopped kissing and rested their foreheads against each other instead, there were smug little smiles and licking of lips to try and retain the taste of the other boy.

"I don't like you much either," Harry murmured, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling from the exhilaration of first the flight, then the kiss. "But I solemnly swear to spoil you rotten."

"And love me," Draco reminded, breathless.

"Probably. Eventually. You really are pain in the arse, Draco."

Draco bowed his head and looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, winking mischievously. "I promise it gets better."

Harry blinked stupidly for a moment, before he let out a bark of laughter. "You prat!" he exclaimed gleefully.

They both leant to pick up their brooms then and turned to walk back into the Manor, bumping hips occasionally and grinning at the other. They met Snape - Severus again now, Harry reminded himself - and Lucille at the door. Lucille was leaning against the door frame, grinning widely, Severus a straight, stern shadow behind her.

"Cute," she told them.

Severus rolled his eyes at her declaration. "After that disgustingly _Gryffindor_ display, do you think perhaps you," he said looking at Draco, "could reassure your father you don't hate him and you managed to save his foul up and could you," now looking at Harry, "tidy up your things and hair and get ready to go."

"Hey, if you saw that, you'll know the state of my hair is Draco's fault," Harry protested, as Draco walked away, smirking.

"I dare say the wind had _nothing_ to do with it," Draco heard Severus drawl sarcastically, before he walked out of ear shot and made his way, again, to the room where his father still was, pacing up and down before the fireplace and dragging worried hands through his hair.

"Draco," turning to face the door as soon as he heard it open. "I'm sorry. Is he still-"

"Yes," Draco quickly cut him off. "He didn't leave. He was flying."

Lucius looked baffled. "Oh." He looked at his feet, then anxiously at Draco again. "Are you still getting married?"

Draco didn't ask directly, instead he turned away from his father to stand by the window, looking out the side of the house, to the wood and the treetops that he and Harry had so recently flown in and out of. "You know, mother has always hurt me," he said casually.

His father took a step closer to him and started to say his name, but Draco carried on regardless.

"I know that you've always done your best to protect me - don't get me wrong, I love you dad, and I know you love me too. But… well, _try_ doesn't always mean succeed." Now Draco turned to look at Lucius. "But the thing about Harry is that he doesn't try. He just… _does_. When he sets his mind to something, when is that something not done?

"He really sucks at Potions," Draco said after a moment's thoughtful silence. "Really badly. But then, everyone tells him he has to save the world and that he should be an auror to do that and that you need to get a decent Potions NEWT and suddenly he's getting 'Outstanding's on his essays and Potions. If we'd been friends, I bet he'd have come up with a way to sort mother out way back in first year. And he would have done it out of the goodness of his heart, not caring what he might gain in return.

"But we weren't friends and so he's only finding out now, and he needs something from me in return. But you go and say something stupid, like maybe we could pay him off, and he _remembers_ that he's a Gryffindor and a hero and suddenly I don't owe him anything. He's going to sort out mother, with or without the wedding."

"You shouldn't have to owe him anything," Lucius said passionately, stepping towards Draco again. "You're a Malfoy. You shouldn't have to bow down to anyone."

Draco laughed harshly. "You bow down to the Dark Lord. We both bow down to mother. Don't you get it yet? Harry's a stupid bloody _Gryffindor_. I wouldn't have to bow down to him. Harry's going to be the reason why we can be Malfoys again. Do you really think my marrying him is a bad thing? He's the hero of the wizarding world, he'd give me anything and everything if he thought it'd make me happy. And in return he's giving up his white-picket-fence-and-three-kids."

Lucius sighed heavily and sank down into one of the armchairs, as though he were collapsing under the weight of the world. "I'm sorry, Draco. For all of my failings,"

Draco stepped over to his father, leaning over him and kissing his forehead. "It's not your fault, Dad. Just… welcome him. For me."

He took a deep breath and nodded, taking the offered hand to help pull himself up. "Come, then, we must return to the mansion."

They walked together closely, but not touching, back to the entrance where Severus was still sniping at Harry about something or another, whilst Harry and Lucille listened with amusement.

"You know," Harry commented when Severus spotted the Malfoys and his tirade stopped momentarily. "You aren't half so scary without your teaching robes and threats of detention."

"I can still get you to clean my lab from top to bottom without the help of magic," Severus threatened, glowering.

Harry grinned. "You're a neat-freak, Severus, that threat means nothing when it isn't the school classroom."

Lucille giggled, trying to hide her mirth behind her hand, but failing. "Aw, come on, love," she told Severus, smiling lightly. "It's true. Besides, it'd be more of a punishment to you than Harry if you got him to clean your private lab."

Severus ducked his head in acquiescence and one corner of his lips tipped upwards momentarily in a half-smile, before it was gone and he was his austere self again. But, no matter how swift it was, it shocked Harry and pleased everyone else.

Eileen appeared then, as they were about to leave. "You weren't going to leave without saying good bye?" she asked sternly.

"Mum," Severus said. "Lucy and I will be back in half an hour, and I've no doubt the Malfoys and Potter will be plaguing our doorstep over the next month."

"Actually," Harry piped in, "You'll be plaguing their doorstep, since Lucius is under house arrest and all."

Eileen shot Harry a grateful look even as her son sent him an annoyed one. "And since I know you, you'll no doubt stay for dinner, and forget all about your old Mama, waiting at home alone for you." Eileen hesitated a moment, then continued, "I'll come with you."

"Mum-" Severus began in protestation, but Eileen held up a hand and he promptly shut up.

"If I can cow _you _Sevvy, I can cow some upstart little tart who's been doing our Lucius and his boy wrong."

"Mum-" Severus started again, but he was interrupted again, this time by Harry.

"Ma'am, are you any good at the Impedimenta spell?"

"Yes I am, boy, what's it to you?" Eileen asked, frowning when Harry winced at 'boy'.

A curious expression took over Harry's face; part powerful protectiveness, part malicious and, most importantly, part mischievous. Glancing at her out of the side of his eyes, he said, slyly, "I have a plan."

* * *

_AN: Just a reminder to you folks, although I love and appreciate all reviews, this story is going to be moved to my main account when I finish writing it, so all reviews written here will be lost. I know that seriously sucks and I apologise for that. If you want your comments to cherished forever, PM this of my other account instead. You're also waaaay more likely to get a response from me then, too, since my email account filters out everything from fanfiction except PMs. Not sure why. :-/_


	6. VI Draco's Mum

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

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'Til Death Do Us Part

Part VI - Draco's Mum

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In the past six hours Harry had got engaged, freed a felon from Azkaban, received permission to call _Snape_ by his given name, snogged and been snogged silly by Draco Malfoy and devised a nefarious plot with the afore mentioned professor's mother. Eileen Prince, it turned out, was every inch the Slytherin.

The plan to eradicate Narcissa Malfoy from all properties, possessions and names Malfoy was several-fold. Partly it was to get in good with Eileen Prince, because after the whole "But Muuuum," speech he'd heard from Severus, Harry was smart enough to figure out if he had Eileen on his side, he had Severus. And Severus was something of a corner stone in this little posse of Slytherins. Partly it was to avenge Draco, please the blonde boy and then, hopefully, get into his pants. This part of the plan came as a bit of a shock to Harry, to whom Draco had only ever been playground nemesis before. But what with their upcoming nuptials, the snog they'd had earlier and the new realisation of just how gorgeous Draco was, Harry's hormones took over. And partly, it was to prove to Lucius Malfoy that Harry Potter was not the Gryffindor Golden Boy everyone outside of his best friends thought he was.

Harry was still uncertain where he stood with the elder Malfoy. At times he was welcoming and accepting of Harry and at others was an inch away from bribing him to go off and let them alone. Draco had, luckily, taken things in that quarter into his own hands. It was strange, especially considering their past acquaintance, but the two boys were almost looking forward to their wedding. They were both smart enough to know that their current unspoken agreement had more to do with teenaged hormones than actual appreciation for one another, but they were still snatching enough glances of who the other really was to know that being married wouldn't be a complete chore. They'd certainly never be bored. Either way, Harry was leaving Lucius to be dealt with by his son.

Walking up the long driveway from the gate to the actual Manor, Harry glanced sideways at Draco and grinned when he caught the blonde staring back. The blonde continued staring unabashedly, winking after a moment before facing forward again, a smirk curling the corners of his own mouth. Harry's eyes fluttered shut briefly as the memory of kissing that mouth flooded his senses. Turning his own eyes forward, Harry fought to keep his mind on Plan: Overthrow Narcissa and off the overwhelming urge to grab Draco's hand. A hand that kept brushing his own as they walked side by side.

Narcissa, Harry knew, was a proud woman. And the best way to humiliate a proud person was to beat them at the game they were best at. Harry was not going to beat her when it came to who knew the most about pureblood etiquette, but he had watched Draco closely now for five years of his life. There was no one, not his mother, not his father, not Severus, who knew Draco better than Harry did. And Harry knew, after his brief, painful conversation with Draco about how his mother abused him, that Narcissa took every pleasure in knowing that she knew her son better than anyone.

And, if it turned out that she _did _know Draco better than Harry did… well, he was more magically powerful than she was. And, although nothing had been signed, they'd made a vocal contract - Draco was his now, much as he was Draco's. This thought sent a thread of excited anticipation humming through Harry. The thought of possessing and of being possessed by the other teen, whom Harry was coming to understand a lot better now this new layer of the onion had been unravelled. And now that Harry had reached a maturity that could see beyond the blurred borders of House names that had so distinguished him and his friends in previous years, he could recognise and acknowledge traits in Draco that he wouldn't - or couldn't - have accepted before.

If only Harry could keep his mind out of his pants and on the job at hand, everything would go fine. Harry was blaming Draco for that very distracting kiss earlier. Another fleeting sideways glance, another meeting of gazes and Harry's hand turned out just a little, letting Draco take it if he wished. Which, surprisingly, he did. This time it was Harry's turn to smirk, earning himself a quick pinch to the back of his hand, which did nothing to alleviate the smugness he felt.

As they arrived at the front doors, Harry and Draco dropped each other's hands and Harry stepped forward a little from the others to take the lead. He wrapped sharply on the front door and waited patiently as it swung open to reveal a rather bruised looking house elf that looked eerily like Dobby.

"Masters Malfoys! Yous being home!" it cried in glee, fat wet tears starting to roll down it's cheeks. "Fobby is being so glad to see you!" And then it collapsed in a wet heap on the floor, shaking as it wept silently.

"Hey, Draco," Harry said, eyes hard. "How about we call up Hermione and let her do all the dirty work?"

Draco winced and rubbed his nose, remembering the brunette witch's hefty punch from two years previous. "Much as I'd love to see Granger flatten mother, I would prefer to keep my House Elves."

Behind them they heard Snape briefly summarising SPEW to the others. Lucille laughed lightly as they entered the foyer, saying she'd like to meet this friend of Harry's.

"Hopefully," Harry told her, "You'll be able to meet all of my friends before too long. Although I have to warn you, ma'am, since I don't know much - if anything - about you, if you so much as think about hurting any of my friends or family (and so, by extension, the Malfoys) I will have to hurt you."

She laughed again. "Funny, that's pretty much what Draco said to me about Severus."

Just then Narcissa appeared at the top of the large, curving stairs that finished a meter or so from the small group of intruders. She was dressed in pale blue robes, her hair pulled up and severe make up making her look a lot like how Harry imagined the ice queen might, if she were real. She made her regal way down most of the stairs, but stopped before she reached the bottom, so she looked down upon all of them.

"Lucius, how strange to see you," she said, ignoring the others for a moment. "If you have a moment, there's some Ministry work that needs catching up on. I left the files on your desk." It was as though Lucius had never been incarcerated - the moment he returned and she was already ordering him around, making it sound like favours.

Next, Narcissa turned her poisonous gaze upon her son. "Dragon," she said, tone cold enough that it seemed to freeze the air around them. "I was not aware you'd left. I am disappointed in you. You realise that it is my duty to punish you for these misgivings?"

Draco shivered on the spot and Harry took another step forward, a frostily polite smile in place as green eyes burnt with barely controlled fury. The edges of his cloak were stirring slightly as his magic rose to meet his anger.

"I'm afraid, Ms Black, that you are no longer in a position to do so."

Fathomless blue eyes, shallower than the breadth of a butterfly's wings, turned to Harry. He could tell from the way they pinned him, the way they tried to emulate the sense of seeing _into_ the person they were glaring at that this woman, no matter who or what she was now, had once been a powerful person, if not magically then politically. She had retained enough of that power to make Harry hesitate for a moment.

But, born trouble maker and disregarder of all types of authority, it was only for a moment. After years of neglect and abuse at the hands of his relations, then five years of being alternately hailed then demonised by the wizarding public, Harry was beyond caring about other people's expectations of him. So he grinned up at her, and floated up the foot or so that kept her taller than he.

"You see, Ms Black, Draco here is my fiancé. And as his intended it is my right to demand vengeance against all who have wronged him. Imagine my surprise when the number one offender is you!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Narcissa said, sneering ever so slightly and tilting her head back so she might continue glaring down her nose at Harry. The effect of such an action was just to make her look ridiculous.

"Hmm," Harry murmured ambiguously. "Well, I asked his father ever so nicely and, in return for being set free, Lucius said that I might marry Draco. Certain… circumstances came up and I've now decided to do what I must to make sure my husband will remain undamaged until I decide otherwise. I'm afraid that this means, for you, that I'm removing you from all titles and holdings Malfoy."

Narcissa tried to take a step backwards and stumbled, courtesy of a soft spell from Eileen, who looked about as guilty as a person could do, staring off to one side and pointedly avoiding looking at them, a wicked smirk growing across her face.

Harry drifted back down so he was standing once more on solid ground. Then he took a step forward and knelt beside where Narcissa had fallen, she was sat looking at him with wide glassy eyes. He cupped her face in one hand and tried his best to look sorry for her. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but Draco's _mine_ and I can't let you get in the way of that."

The formerly proud Malfoy Mistress nodded dumbly and crumpled backwards, dark tears creeping down her cheeks. Frowning, Harry stood and turned to face the others. He stepped towards Lucius and asked him quietly; "Was she always as controlling as she is now?"

"No. At least, I don't believe so. A couple of years after our graduation she started to become less… stable." Lucius spoke back quietly.

Harry glanced back at Narcissa's shaking figure and speculated, "I don't think this is her. Both she and Bellatrix went insane, and yet their other sibling, Andromeda, shows no sign of it at all. I have a strong suspicion that this is not a natural mental instability."

"A curse?" Draco asked.

"Possibly," Harry replied. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but if we can get to the root of this it could be that we could free the real Narcissa from under this façade. I'll get Remus and Hermione to look into it."

"Remus? Remus Lupin? As in the werewolf?" Draco sneered.

Harry snarled back, glaring at the blond. "And the mudblood, _yes_, does that bother you?"

Draco's eyes widened and in this, the place were he was habitually tortured by someone he should have been able to love and be loved by, he cowered.

Immediately, Harry's anger disappeared and he looked contrite. "Draco, I'm sorry. But Remy's as good as my father, now. He was best friends with my dad and godfather, so he's kinda taken over that role. I'm sick and tired of people disrespecting him because of one night a month that he has no control over."

Draco nodded and only flinched a little when Harry reached out to squeeze his hand. But, once he had hold of it, the blond did not let go. "I'm sorry too," he whispered in to Harry's ear. "I liked him when he taught us, I'm just used to…"

"Being a bastard?" Harry teased, poking Draco lightly in the ribs. "Don't worry, I should be used to it by now. But you know what my temper's like." Then he addresses the rest of the group as well. "Remy was closest with Siri and he's spent the past year at Grimmauld place, so if anyone knows about a familial curse, it'll be him. He's also dating a certain metamorphmagus who can ask Mrs Tonks."

"A metamorphmagus?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, your cousin Tonks favours bright pink hair and amusing people with various animal noses. She'll also jinx you pretty bad if you ever call her Nymphadora," Harry explained.

Lucius shuddered delicately, then returned attention to the shaking form of his wife. "And what about Narcissa?"

"Well," Harry hesitated again, "you could still divorce her. Even claim annulment due to her insanity - I think you can do that - but if I know Hermione she'll do her damnedest to find a way of reversing this. In that case… she'd be Narcissa again, rather than _that_. If there's still a possibility that you'll be able to get your wife back…" Harry trailed off, letting Lucius finish the thought for himself, and consider the ramifications of his actions.

A long silence followed thereafter, broken by Eileen speaking up, "Well that was rather anticlimactic," she said. "Oh, not that I'm not grateful we might be able save poor Narcissa, but I was rather looking forward to a confrontation."

"Mum," Severus snapped. "There'll be plenty enough confrontations in the near future. Do not encourage the destruction that can be caused by them."

"Tush!" Eileen said, waving her son off. "I knew Tom when he was at school and he was nothing like our dear Harry here. I don't care what anyone says, there's no way we'll lose. And considering Harry's Gryffindor disposition I would be very much surprised if we didn't get out of this without any deaths. Including yours, dear," she added sharply, waving a dangerous looking finger in Harry's direction. "Prophecies are nothing but rubbish," she added with a note of resounding finality.

At this point in time Narcissa let out a long, high pitched keening noise, and Lucius was drawn out of his reverie to her side. He pulled her to her feet and with heartbreaking tenderness, swept the few locks of hair that had escaped their pins behind her ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and glanced over to where Harry watched in fascination, his eyes were suspiciously shiny.

"I don't think I'd be able to divorce her. Perhaps it's terrible of me, knowing what she's done to our family, but I love her," he told them hoarsely.

Narcissa blinked and those eerie blue eyes sharpened a little. "Lucius, what are you doing?" she asked. "I can stand perfectly well on my own."

Straight away, all of Lucius' attention returned to his wife. "I know, my darling, but you tripped and I wished to help you."

Narcissa smiled, pleased momentarily and leant upward as though about to bestow a kiss upon him. But then she frowned. "Don't you have paperwork to do, Lucius? The Ministry did not stop working just because you were imprisoned. I think I said, I left it on your desk for you."

"It won't matter if I leave it one more day."

"Nonsense," Narcissa's gaze hardened to the ice that it had been when they had first seen her that afternoon. "Lucius, it needs to be done at once. Don't be slothful."

Lucius shot a lost look over at the others.

"Do as she says, for now," Severus said. "If she is cursed, then we must humour her until we find a cause and a way to end it. If she is not… until we know for sure, there is no point making her suffer."

"I can still hear, you half blood," Narcissa said, wrinkling her nose.

Lucille, of all people, stepped forward, then. "Lady Malfoy, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lucille Hash - I think you knew my parents?"

"They were Americans - Richard and Amelia?"

"Indeed. Well, they passed away recently and I've been left with their businesses and holdings. Perhaps you could help advise me? I've heard a great deal about you and the austerity with which you control the Malfoy stocks."

Narcissa considered for a moment, glancing at Severus and Eileen, then back. "How are they connected to you?"

"My father took a turn for the worse in society before his death - I'm sure you know what I mean - and left the family name disgraced. I've done what I can to salvage it, but given the nature of his disgrace and the colour of my skin, no pureblood will hear of associating with me. Severus may be a half blood, but he is a descendant of Princes and heir to their fortune. Not to mention he has gained quite a name for himself due to his Potions skills."

"And why should I help a disgrace such as you?" Narcissa sneered.

Lucille smiled a cold smile that quite matched the blonde's. "Because while my name is belittled, my fortune is not. On the contrary, it's more prosperous than it has been for some time. My parents neglected it."

Narcissa continued her narrow-eyed glare down her nose at the other lady, before offering her elbow. Lucille took it with similar distaste and they walked off together, clearly detesting one another.

Before they were out of ear shot, Narcissa paused and turned back to address Harry. "Oh, and Mr Potter, so long as you take the Malfoy name utterly - none of this double-barrelled nonsense - then your union has my blessing." And then they left.

Harry let out a horrified, "Oh my God," before burying his head between the lapels of Draco's cloak.

Draco laughed and petted the top of Harry's head awkwardly. "You'll get used to it."

"Don't lie. This pure blood etiquette is going to kill me," Harry's muffled reply came. "I thought Lucille was nice, _normal_ and then she goes and pulls something like that!"

"Lucy _is_ nice," Severus snapped sourly. Then, as though realising he had used such a vulgar word as 'nice' he was compelled to continue. "Her story is not entirely true, but all she did then was show that she had the social skills to manipulate a situation to her benefit. To _your_ benefit."

Harry's head whipped up, almost clocking Draco on the chin, and stared bewilderedly in Severus' direction. "You're married, aren't you?" he asked. "You're the 'tall dark and handsome stranger' that the papers said a multi-million dollar heiress eloped with at the beginning of summer."

"We are not married," was all Severus said.

Harry laughed delightedly. "But it is you! I never knew my aunt would be good for anything, but apparently celebrity gossip is good for something!"

"You will tell no one of this. Lucille and I have so far managed to keep my name from the papers, if the school at large found out-"

"Oh, they will," Harry said and laughed again. "Merlin, Snape! You never struck me as the type to elope. Congrats are in order, then. Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Well, perhaps Remy and Tonks, but no one else!"

Severus looked vaguely horrified. "You will not tell that pink haired menace anything! Nor the wolf," he added as an after thought.

Harry laughed again, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist and leaning his head comfortably against the blonde's shoulder without thinking. "Don't worry, I won't suggest a double wedding."

At that Severus blanched and Harry managed to incite a laugh from Draco and Eileen as well. "You are an absolute terror," Severus informed Harry seriously.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded with a grin.

Lucius coughed politely from one of the doorways, announcing his return. "I have arranged for the House Elves to arrange the engagement suite for the two of you. Draco, would you like to move your own things or shall I get them to do it?"

"Let the House Elves," Draco replied. "Which centre room?"

Lucius glanced at Harry, who still had an arm around Draco, but was supporting his own head now. "I wasn't sure how Pot- Harry felt about it, but I've used the emerald rooms. It is traditional." He paused, then said, "Dinner will be in an hour in the main dining hall. You are all invited to attend. If you wish I can prepare rooms for the night?" He asked Severus and Eileen, who both shook their heads.

Eileen protested again the arrangements, insisting that there were things to be dealt with at home, and left soon afterwards. Severus followed Lucius out, presumably to Malfoy's study to go over the Ministr documents. Draco and Harry were left standing in the foyer alone.

"Engagement suite?" Harry asked in the sudden silence.

"It's like the master suite, but after midnight it expels any intruders in the bedroom out into the living area."

"Intruders?"

Draco rolled his eyes and, loosening himself from Harry's arm, grabbed the other boy's hand instead and led him up the stairs and down a multitude of corridors. "You're such a plebeian, Harry. It is a set of two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living area and breakfast room. One bedroom is mine, the other yours. 'Intruders' means if you are in my room after midnight, for whatever nefarious purpose, you will get shunted out. And the same vice versa."

Draco blushed so prettily when he said 'nefarious' Harry couldn't help but tease him. Leaning in close, he murmured his words in a low leer. "Am I likely to be in your bedroom, Draco? Do you want me to be _with_ you?"

The blond stumbled a little in his next step, but upheld his countenance commendably. "I am certain that some… _shunting_ will occur."

Harry groaned quietly, his hand tightening around Draco's. "God, Draco. To think I started this day hating you and dreading this."

Draco tensed almost imperceptibly, but Harry was too close, watching too close, not to notice. "You can still leave," Draco all but whispered. "I wouldn't want you to be here because you had to be."

Harry sighed and pulled them to a stop. He looked the blond very seriously in the eyes and kept tight hold of his hand. "We shouldn't fool ourselves into thinking that this marriage is based on anything more than hormones and convenience. If I had the choice now - no, I don't think I would marry you. I don't think I'd marry anyone. I only just turned sixteen, for Christ's sake. But if our problems suddenly disappeared, after all that's happened today, I'd definitely be working out how best to ask you out." Harry reached up and stroked the side of Draco's face. "I can't give you a declaration of love, but I can tell you you're damn sexy, Draco, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you - in every sense." Harry winked.

"You just ruined the effect, Potter. You were in the middle of a heart warming speech and you spoil it by being lustful. You're a disgrace to wizarding kind, I tell you," Draco scolded haughtily, continuing their journey towards their rooms.

Harry opened his mouth to produce a suitably scathing comeback when Draco stopped and opened a door. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find, and so couldn't be entirely surprised by what was revealed, but the room was far from the dark, dank Slytherin Common room style room he'd imagined. The far wall of the living area they stepped into was made entirely of glass, letting bright summer light flood in. There was a large fireplace against one wall, a bookcase against the opposite wall and too plump, comfy looking sofas back to back in the middle. Two armchairs were set opposite one another over a chess board by the window and everything was done delightful shades of green that enhanced rather than oppressed the light. There were four doors leading off, not including the one they were standing in, and Draco pointed to each of them in turn.

"Those two lead to our bedrooms, which lead to the ensuite bathrooms. That one over there leads to the breakfast room and _that_ one, if we're lucky…" Draco trailed off, dragging Harry towards it. As he opened it, Harry almost rolled his eyes. The room was made almost entirely of a very large hot tub, with a couple of showers at one end of the room. Like the living room, one wall was made almost entirely of glass, but in here part of the ceiling was too.

"You know the bedrooms kick intruders out?" Harry asked, coming to stand as close as he could behind Draco again. "Does this room? Because I could imagine having a lot of fun in here…"

Draco half turned to smack him lightly, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of Draco's own mischievous grin. They left the hot tub room and crossed the expansive window-wall to the opposite door that was the breakfast room. It was about the same size as it's counterpart, but instead of showers and a hot tub it had a small dining table with two chairs against the wall at one end, and a coffee table and two armchairs angled out the window to enjoy the view.

"I can't believe this," Harry said. "I spend ten years in a cupboard, five years in a dormitory with four other boys and then suddenly all this…"

"If it makes you uncomfortable we can arrange for smaller rooms," Draco said, choosing his words carefully. "But when we're married the rooms we'll be moved to will probably be even larger. And when we head back to school, they have a policy that gives married students their own rooms away from the dorms."

"I'm not uncomfortable, exactly. It's just… strange."

"_Everything_ today is strange. I blame it on you," Draco smirked. Then he sighed and sank into the sofa opposite the fireplace. "You'd best call in your troops. Feel free to invite them through - my only provisos are that you keep them away from my mother and the Malfoy ancestral portraits and absolutely no Weasleys. I know I shall have to meet them eventually, but I feel it would be less painless meeting them all at once and getting it over and done with quickly - like a plaster."

Harry gazed sceptically at Draco, but didn't argue, beaming after a moment and kissing him softly on the cheek. "Only Remy and Tonks for now. Mione's still in France at the moment," he informed him. "Have you met Tonks before?"

"My cousin Tonks? No. I met my Aunt Andy once when I was quite little. I don't remember much about her."

Harry hummed to himself a moment, before suddenly standing straight and dumping a handful of floo-powder into the grate and sticking his head in after shouting. "Grimmauld Place!"

"Remy?" Harry called after the initial discombobulation of having one's head and body at opposite ends of the country had faded somewhat. "Tonks! You guys home? I know you can't be in the middle of something, it's only half five, for crying out loud!"

"I think I resent that, Cub," Remus said, finally emerging. "I'm not _old_ you know. I'm perfectly capable of taking the advantage no matter what time of day."

Tonks entered a moment later, plopping herself down on Remus' lap once he'd sat down on the settee. "I can attest to that. It's quite fun when this old wolf takes the initiative."

Harry wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. To be honest he wasn't too bothered by the thought of Remus having sex. It was weird, certainly, but the older man was much more like a friend or elder brother than he was the father figure Harry had claimed earlier. So talking about sex with Remus was like talking about it with Ron or the other boys in his dorm - weird, but ok. So long as there were absolutely _no_ specifics.

"So how'd it go today, kiddo?" Tonks asked after she'd had her laugh.

"It actually went really well," Harry said, allowing himself a grin. "There've been a couple of unwelcome surprises, but mostly it's been good. I hadn't realised how _hot_ Draco was until he stopped being my enemy, you know?" Harry gave a yelp as Draco pinched his bum.

"Draco's listening in?" Remus said, arms holding Tonks onto his lap so she wouldn't roll herself onto the floor with her laughter.

"Yeah," Harry leered. Then he remembered who he was talking to and blushed and coughed. "Um. Anyway. I was wondering if you knew anything about a curse being placed on the Blacks?" Harry asked Tonks. "Only, it seems Narcissa doesn't have al her marbles either, and it seems a bit strange to me that two sisters would be so badly affected and the third not at all."

Tonks let out a heavy sigh, laughter eradicated. "Yeah… but it's not what you think. It's not some do-gooder fighting against Voldemort or anything. It was my grandparents - my mum's parents. When they were little, they put a curse on the three of them. Basically, to 'preserve' the bloodline or some such shit, the curse was to enforce their freewill. If they allowed themselves to be controlled by someone, they'd lose their minds."

"What? But that doesn't make sense," Harry protested.

"Most pureblood fanaticism doesn't, Harry. But my grandparents thought the spell would simply reinforce Mum, Bella and Cissa's independence. Stop them from cowering before their husbands, becoming queens within their homes and all that. 'Course, they didn't see Voldemort coming. Ironic, really. The two daughters they'd be most proud of gone completely nutty, and the one who married a muggle the only one with her mind in tact."

"Is there anyway to reverse it?" Harry asked desperately.

Tonks considered for a moment. "I'm guessing that the only reason that they've gone quite so mad is because of the Dark Mark - submitted themselves to him all the time, rather than just the odd order here or there. Get rid of that, and Moldy Voldy's control over them is broken. Whether either of them will be able to regain their minds - who knows? And if they do, Harry, they'll probably still go half mad with the things they've done because of the curse. Mum said the idea was that they'd hurt those around them, becoming domineering and abusive."

Harry said nothing and groped behind him in search of Draco's hand. Feeling the blond kneel beside him to aid him, he grabbed it and held on tight.

"Harry," Remus said, drawing Harry's attention back to the couple he was looking at. "Are you alright? Really?"

"Not really," Harry admitted honestly. "A couple of days ago I was just the Boy-Who-Lived. Now Dumbledore's a bad guy, the Malfoys are good guys, I'm getting married, my mother-in-law-to-be is under some twisted pureblood spell and I have some half-baked crazy plan to get rid of Voldemort. Much more of this and _I'm_ going to go nutty."

"Kiddo," Tonks teased, "You already are."

"You want us to come through?" Remus asked.

"Nah, not now. I have dinner with my in-laws to look forward to tonight. I think we'll be visiting the Weasleys some time tomorrow, to introduce them to Draco properly - that's going to be interesting - so maybe meet you then?"

"OK, Cub," Remus said, before shoving Tonks off his lap and kneeling towards the fireplace to give Harry a kiss on the forehead. "You take care, alright? If you need anything, just send us an owl."

"We love you, Harry," Tonks added. "And say 'hi' to my cousin for me, would you?"

"Sure. Love you guys." And with that Harry withdrew his head and found himself immediately with an armful of Draco.

"I heard what she said about my Mum and the curse-" Draco muttered under his breath, clutching Harry tightly, desperately. "Please find a way," he begged. "I want my Mum back."

* * *

_AN: As ever, just reminding you that whilst reviews are loved, this story will be moved to my main account once it's finished so please don't bother. If you want to say something send me a PM. Or wait until this is finished, I edit it to actually make sense and repost it under Calistabelle. Love to all my readers, Cal xx_


	7. VII Meet the Malfoys

Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.

PS; at the beginning of this chapter I introduce _a lot_ of new people. Don't worry, the only names you need to keep an eye on are **Meriadoc **and possibly **Dryden **and** Stephen**. The others are mostly circumstantial. Merry becomes friends with Harry so sticks around. I may pair her off with a Weasley at some point. Dryden and Stephen are the only other gay couple in the story so far, so might use them for a 'birds and bees' speech at some point. For the lols.

'Til Death Do Us Part

Part VII - Meet the Malfoys

Dinner with his new family turned out to be more of a celebration than Harry could have guessed. Severus and his - Fiancée? Wife? Lover? Harry wasn't quite sure which of these was the true description of what Lucille was to Severus or even if any of them were - Lucille had returned to Prince Manor by the time he and Draco emerged back downstairs and Narcissa had said something vague about a social occasion she could hardly refuse to go to, given the little prior notice Harry had given, and left. So Harry had, naturally, expected it to become a rather awkward, quiet affair with only himself, Draco and Lucius.

Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - he could not have been more wrong. Whilst all of Narcissa's relatives were dead, except for her two sisters and their respective nuclear families who weren't invited because of their 'impropriety' having made them excluded from the safety wards, Lucius had a great number of extended family.

Lucius' father - and Draco's grandfather - had passed away some years ago due to an untimely dragon pox infection coinciding with a broken hip, but his mother - Draco's grandmother - was well and sprightly. As were both of _her_ parents and her deceased husband's parents. On top of this Lucius was the eldest of three boys and two girls, the youngest of which only slightly older than Draco having been conceived mere months before her sire's death. With her as an exception, Draco's other aunts and uncles were all married and most had children. It surmounted to a rather ghastly eighteen further relatives that Harry hadn't realised existed. In hindsight it was foolish of him to think that the only Malfoys existent in the world were those he knew of.

Of the great-grandparents there was George and Lucrecia, Malcolm and Delilah, then there was Draco's only existing grandparent - Felicity. Thankfully, Felicity insisted on Harry's calling her 'Nan' like Draco did and, on this note, George and Lucrecia became 'Grandfather' and 'Grandmother', and Malcolm and Delilah became 'Grand-pere' and 'Grand-mere'. After this came the many, many aunts and uncles. There was Casper, the next eldest, married to Jullianne with their three children, Sabastien (8), Jeremy (5) and Paula (2). Then Georgiana - Lucius' eldest sister - who was married to Ambrosti and had twin daughters, Karissa and Mirabella, both only a year old. The youngest of Lucius' brothers was Dryden who came with his husband Stephen and their three year old Patrick. Finally there was the youngest of Lucius' siblings, Meriadoc, who had laughingly told a rather frazzled looking Harry that no one would take offence if he forgot their names. Harry had had the presence to nod dumbly.

Draco had welcomed all of his relatives with an exuberance and enthusiasm that Harry suspected was because he hadn't seen them in a long time. The blond had cooed adorably over the twins, and presented the other children with small gifts conjured from air that won their immediate affection. Only Sabastien, the eldest of Draco's cousins, seemed to remember him at all and had asked, rather brazenly, if Draco and Lucius were going to be a proper Uncle and Cousin to them now.

Thrown by the question, Draco had glanced at Harry for support, and, ever the Gryffindor, Harry had risen to the challenge. He had told the youngster that his 'Aunt Cissa' had been very, very ill for the past few years and that Lucius and Draco had had to forgo their other familial duties to dedicate their time to her and Draco's education. The elder family members all raised eyebrows at this, including Lucius, but Draco shot them all a glare that said 'later' and they'd said nothing. Sabastien had expressed his regrets and sent his love and then, keeping half a brotherly eye out for all the other young children, had settled down to contemplate the complex looking jigsaw puzzle Draco had given him.

It should have been expected by Lucius at the very least and probably Draco, too, but neither of them saw the unexpected and immediate friendship that had sprung up between Harry and Meriadoc - or Merry, as most people knew her - over the course of the evening. Despite being Lucius' sister, she was only four years older than Draco and Harry. Not only this but she was something of a mischievous rebel of the Malfoy name and often likened by her siblings to the sprite, Puck, from Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Whilst thoroughly educated in pureblood etiquette - of course - she often chose to ignore it in favour of adopting many Muggle ways.

"Mum didn't realise it when she was naming me, of course, but since I was stuck with the name of a _Lord of the Rings_ character I thought why not go the whole hog and ask everyone to call me Merry?" she'd told Harry cheerfully while they were sat together during dinner. "It gave my Muggle and Muggle-born friends a laugh, which then flummoxed those less educated. It was a rather grand joke at the time, although Ma wasn't too best pleased when she found she'd given me the same name as a male hobbit from a Muggle fiction."

"Wasn't too best pleased!" the offended woman declared from the other end of the table. "I was horrified! Imagine it! A Malfoy child with the same name as a well-known fictional male character that had many of the same characteristics as a House Elf! Mind you, it was a very well written trilogy that I enjoyed immensely once I'd calmed down enough to have the presence of mind to read it."

Harry had grinned widely at the exchange, glad that for all the public views on the Malfoy family, and all the posturing he'd seen Lucius, Narcissa and Draco do in public, whilst in private these were very reasonable, intelligent people. "I've not read them," he admitted, "although I did manage to watch most of the first movie by hiding in the kitchen, pretending to do the washing up."

There had been a moment of tense silence from those who heard, that Harry and the children did not pick up on at all, before Merry's mother had continued, "Pfft! I've no taste for _movies_ and doubt their ability to portray in a couple of hours the depth of detail and plot that that Muggle author uses."

Merry had rolled her eyes at her mother's declaration and then staunchly returned to the subject of gags that she and her friends had pulled at school. She had gone to Hogwarts, but had left after her OWLs to 'travel the world' and 'experience foreign culture'. Harry translated this, and the looks on her mother and grandparents' faces, to mean that she'd dropped out, then ran away to avoid their wrath. Either way, she'd only been at the same school as Harry for a year, which was why Harry hadn't heard of her at all. She reminded him of a strange and potentially dangerous mix of Tonks and the Weasley twins. The very thought of such a combination would surely strike fear into the hearts of many a Hogwarts teacher and Harry hoped she'd given Dumbledore hell.

The evening had not been all pleasantries, 'nice-to-meet-you's and gift giving. Once the last of the youngest generation had been sent to bed (the Manor being perfectly large enough to house - all twenty one of - the whole family, _of course_) the real introductions began. First, all the maiden names of the three oldest females were revealed so they could inspect Harry's reactions. One Harry had not heard of, the other was Delacour, from whom he enquired politely if she was a relative Fleur Delacour who had been his fellow TriWizard Champion and whom he believed was engaged to one of his 'brothers' - Bill Weasley. A short, delighted conversation had followed about a rather unusual new connection. Finally, Prince. Harry had taken a moment before he recalled where he'd heard the name, asking; "Eileen?"

Draco had nodded at this, and soon revealed that Eileen was his Great-Uncle's only child and that his wife had lived long enough to see her daughter marry a Muggle and disown her before she'd died. Eileen's father had been too proud to take a second wife, and so had made Severus his heir on his death bed. 'Grand-pere' and 'Grand-mere' had had their second child in a last ditch attempt to have, what they declared to be 'a proper family'. Which, considering that daughter's five children and (thus far) seven grandchildren, had worked out rather well.

Harry was still trying to work out which of the old people Draco was talking about when the next 'test' took place. It was not so much as an obvious test as it was their getting to know just who Harry was. And of course to satisfy their own curiosity.

"So, Harry," said one of Lucius' sisters/sisters-in-law. "How did you end up engaged to Draco?"

There was a tense pause whilst Harry glanced at Draco to ascertain whether the truth would be best or to lie. Draco had shaken his head, clearly showing that no lies would escape them, and Harry took a deep breath, wondering how he might convey the truth without sounding like a blackmailing bastard.

"To be honest with you, Draco and I have hated one another since we first met on the train at the beginning of our first year. I've never had too many friends before Hogwarts, you see, and Draco came in and started insulting my first friend right in front of me. Well, he's a Weasley - I'm sure you're all well aware of the feud Malfoys and Weasleys share."

"And to think," Draco interrupted with a groan, "You're bonding the families together!"

Harry chuckled with a little more force than was probably necessary. "Well, either way, Draco and I started up our own little feud that only really stopped when…" Harry trailed off and glanced across at his intended. "Did we ever actually call a ceasefire?"

Draco smirked wickedly. "No."

For a moment Harry was caught somewhere between fear and arousal, before where he was and whom he was with was called back to mind. He coughed and tried to hide the rising blush. "Um. Anyway. I got a letter from Gringotts when I turned sixteen, saying that Dumbledore had full control of my accounts, was making me repay my pre-paid Hogwarts fees at premium price and was mysteriously donating my money to unknown benefactors. He'd also petitioned for - and gained - continued access and guardianship until I defeated Voldemort or I was no longer a Potter. You can see now that my only solution was to drop the name the only way I could - through marriage.

"There were three people who were 'appropriate' I believe my councillor told me. Draco was by far the best choice. When I found that there were a number of ways that I could help benefit him in return we… set up a business arrangement," Harry finished quickly.

"And what do you expect to do once the war is over?" one of the numerous uncles asked.

Harry smiled a little wistfully. "I don't expect I shall live to see that day, sir. Whilst I fully intend to win the war, I don't think I'll live to see the profits. _If_, on the off chance I do survive, I have already promised to pamper Draco for the rest of our days. I think, after the treatment we've both been through, I shall find it a rather wonderful experience. Especially considering how fantastically we can fight and how wonderful I expect our reconciliations to be."

"Planning on having to 'make up' a lot are we, Potter?" Draco said, although the taunt was made somewhat softer by the lust clouding his eyes.

"Hmm," Harry replied, his own smirk echoing Draco's previous one.

Merry giggled and hid her face in the shoulder of one of her brothers. "I think I'm going to really like you Harry," she said once she'd reappeared.

Harry smiled shyly, hopefully at her, and then tentatively around at the other family members who were all still staring at him with numerous varied expressions on their faces.

"What did you mean about Narcissa earlier?" Lucius prompted.

The smile and general amiability in the atmosphere was lost completely and Harry glanced once more to Draco for support. "I, uh, talked to Tonks before dinner." Harry said. "Nymphadora, that is. She confirmed our ideas - there is indeed a curse upon the Black sisters."

A shocked gasp from those who were unaware of what they had been discussing at first echoed around the room.

"It shouldn't have ever got as bad as it has for Bellatrix and Narcissa, but the Dark Mark solidified the bond and made it a 24/7 subservience. The curse was to make them independent, to not disgrace the Black name and bend to the will of another. There's a chance - a very slim chance - that if I can remove the Dark Mark or kill the Dark Lord she may regain her sanity. Whether she'd be able to live with her memories of the curse's effect, however…" Harry trailed off, not needing to say the rest of the sentence and speak his fears.

The other members of Draco's family looked on in solemn silence, and after the initial shock of having the information relayed, none of them seemed overwhelmingly surprised. Harry figured that if he could piece together the puzzle within minutes, then it was hardly surprising that her in-laws had also had their suspicions. Although the question remained as to why they hadn't done anything about it. Harry couldn't understand how this apparently close-knit group of people could abandon one part of their whole when it most needed their help - had they simply turned a blind eye to Lucius and Draco - nay, even Narcissa's - needs?

"I hope you'll all excuse me if I leave early," Harry said then. "I still have things to arrange before I move in indefinitely and I know this is an intensely personal matter. I know I'm soon to become a member of your family, but until then perhaps it would be best left to you to discuss?" It was not so much a question as a statement of fact. Although the people around him had been curious to know more about him and who he was, since he had mentioned the cause of Narcissa's madness, their curiosity had been diverted in a different direction.

Draco knew that Harry was lying about having anything else to sort out - Harry had professed early to having been 'sorted' - but said nothing to the contrary. He rose to kiss Harry on the cheek as the brunet left and whispered quickly, "Go to your friends. If you're not back by one I'll start to worry." He squeezed Harry's hand momentarily, then sat down again and watched Harry leave. Only Lucius seemed to pick up on what was said, as he was sitting closest.

Ron was still upset about the whole situation when Harry returned to the Burrow that evening. However, he'd had almost two days to get used to the situation and he'd calmed somewhat, though the direction of his anger still sometimes swayed in the direction of the Malfoys. When Harry apparated onto the porch and knocked politely, as soon as Mrs Weasley opened the door and Harry saw Ron he knew that, even if Draco had told him it was alright to tell about Narcissa, he wouldn't have. Ron was his best friend, but he also had the classic red-headed temper.

Harry didn't know who, if Ron found out, that temper would be directed at and, until he was certain that Ron and Draco had reached some kind of neutral middle ground that didn't have a I-hate-you-you-hate-me basis or, if it did, they managed to keep the majority of those thoughts to themselves and act civilly towards one another. Secretly Harry hoped that he'd be able to still have his happy-ever-after and would be able to align the two sides of his family. The dream of a wife, white picket fence, a dog, a cat and two-point-eight children was out of the question (not least because the wall encircling the Malfoy property could hardly be described as a 'white picket fence') nonetheless, Harry still clung to the dream of becoming a family man. If he could survive the war, that is.

"Ron," Harry greeted carefully, unsure of which belief his tenacious friend would have decided to cling to.

"Alright, mate?" the red head replied, an uncomfortable distance between the two that had not existed since the beginning of the Tri-Wizard fiasco nearly two years ago.

The awkwardness lingered for a moment longer as both boys eyed the other as they silently questioned how their friendship might have changed with the difference of circumstances. Then, at almost precisely the same moment - though there was no way to determine who moved first - both grinned and stepped forward to give and receive a tight hug.

Mrs Weasley had watched the entire scenario with the same wariness that any mother watches two errant children deciding how things stood between them, and couldn't have stopped the smile that flitted across her round face for all the effort in the world. But the smile was soon replaced with a tut-tut as she shooed both of them from the room 'unless they want to help with the washing-up!' And so Ron and Harry were reunited once more, racing this time from the fear of household chores rather than Dark Lords.

"I always figured you and Ginny would get together, y'know?" Ron said once they'd collapsed onto his bed on the top floor of the burrow.

Harry shrugged. "We talked. I guess we both figured that'd happen too. I mean, neither of us had ever really said anything, it just seemed that was where we were headed."

"Probably a good thing that all this happened," Ron then said. "What with you being gay and all."

Harry sat up so fast he cracked his head on one of the low ceiling beams and a moan from the spirit in the attack rang out. "What?" he asked. "How do you know that?"

Ron snorted disbelievingly. "Give me a little credit, Harry. I know I'm not the most observant of guys, but even I notice when my best mate keeps checking out _blokes_."

Harry buried his head back in his hands to hide his flaming cheeks. "I never meant to keep it from you. It just sort of… there was never the right time."

"It's fine," Ron reassured. "I figured you'd tell me when you got your first boyfriend. 'Course, you being you and all - you go and get engaged straight off, none of this fucking about that everyone else enjoys." Ron shot a sly sideways grin at Harry "At least this way if Malfoy isn't any good in the sack you'll never know."

"Piss off," Harry replied half-heartedly, his retreating blush returning with a vengeance. He considered for a moment, then threw the pillow he was half sat on into Ron's face. Ron retaliated and the conversation devolved into an all-out pillow war.

Two hours and many feathers later, Harry bid the Weasleys farewell and headed back to Malfoy Manor. It was only just past midnight, but despite Draco's statement to the contrary, Harry knew the blonde would already have started worrying - indeed, if the situations had been reversed, Harry wasn't sure he'd have had the grace to let Draco out of his sight. Sure enough, by the time Harry had made his way to the central area of the rooms he was now sharing with Draco, his fiancé was pacing restlessly back and forth across the room.

Draco started a little when Harry opened the door, but the tension visibly drained from his shoulders as he saw who was standing there. He straightened a moment later and smiled a little tersely before he looked away and paced a step or two more.

"How did it go?" Harry asked once he'd shut the door behind him and settled onto one of the armchairs looking out across the darkened manor gardens.

"You have their general approval," Draco said irrelevantly - it had been obvious before he'd left that, even if their reception of him was still decidedly cool, the Malfoys on the whole approved of their newest addition. "I think they like you more than they like myself and Father at the moment," he added. "They didn't say it, any of them, but they all think we were remiss in not figuring it out sooner. After all, it only take the Boy-Wonder half an hour to figure out the truth, doesn't it?" he asked bitterly, resolutely not looking at Harry and doing his best not to let the threatening tears escape.

Harry stood and moved behind Draco, to hug the blond from behind, burying his face in the nape of the elder's neck.

"I hate it," Draco whispered. "I hate them for their useless words and theorising and I hate the fact they're _right_."

Doing his best not to react to that piece of information, knowing that Draco would take it as revulsion towards him, rather than Harry's perpetual need to protect, he clung tighter to the blond. "I don't know what they said, Draco, but they _cannot_ be in the right anymore than you are in the wrong."

"That's precisely the point, though!" Draco cried in frustration, breaking free of Harry's grasp and returning to his pacing of the room. "You don't know what they said, so you can't possibly say if they were in the right or the wrong!" He growled in frustration and threw himself face-first into the couch. "I love my mother, Potter. I know that she's mad and a abusive, but she's my _mother_. Never, not in all of infinity would I have inflicted this kind of pain on her or myself if I'd known there was a way to prevent - and yet I've been so _blind_! So submissive."

Harry hesitated a moment where he still stood, before moving to sit on the floor beside Draco, his back to the couch so that when he turned his head he was level with Draco's head still buried in cushions. "No you haven't," he said. "And if you have, so have they." He paused a moment to consider best how to say what next needed to be said. "If there was a servant who knew that the only way he'd be allowed to eat even the smallest, meanest slice of bread was if he cooked a massive banquet twice daily for his masters, do you think he'd care whether he slept in a cupboard or in the most comfortable bed in the world?"

Draco twisted his head so that blue-grey eyes peeked out at Harry through long strands of pale blond hair. "Of course not," he murmured. "His bedroom doesn't keep him alive, but the food does."

"But while he sleeps in a cupboard," Harry argued back, "he can never have any quality of life, he will always be uncomfortable and cramped and always wake tired."

It was as though the light had been switched on in Draco's mind and his eyes glittered with calm understanding. "You're saying that it couldn't matter to me if my mother was going mad if I had to spend everyday worrying about how not to get beaten. But at the same time, I'd never be able to even reach a state of contentedness, let alone happiness without the part of the whole I hadn't even considered before."

"Yes," Harry said. "My situation changed when I started Hogwarts, yours changed when I proposed to you. You've been part of your mother's progression into madness, whereas I just had the cold hard 'before' and 'after' scenarios."

"You were the servant?" Draco asked, confused.

Harry lifted one shoulder and let it drop in a half-shrug. "Kind of. Although it was my relatives that I was serving, not some hoity-toity lord or lady."

Draco scowled, although the force of the glare was softened by the fact that it was done through a veil of hair. "Malfoys are lords, you know," he said after a moment. "Which means you're marrying one of those 'hoity-toity' people."

For a moment there was silence, until Harry, not believing what he'd heard, started laughing. "I'm never going to grow bored with you around, Draco. You're so absurd."

"And a lord. Well. Not yet, but I will be. Which means you will too," Draco stopped talking for a moment and sat up, a look of pure horror crossing his face. "Oh Christ," he moaned. "Harry 'Golden-Boy' Potter, a _lord_. Heaven help us all!"

The comment was designed to lighten the tone further and get another laugh from Harry, but the burnet hadn't been listening, distracted as he was by the wince Draco had subconsciously made at the sudden movement. After all the excitement of the past couple of hours, Harry had forgotten that Draco was still recovering from a beating from his mother.

As though sensing what was coming next, Draco shook his head, saying only - "Don't."

Harry sighed and ducked his head. It was unreasonable to expect, after only day, that they would be capable of trusting each other with intimate facts they might not tell even their friends. Nonetheless, knowing that he was getting married without that level of trust present reminded Harry of the precarious position he was in. Things between himself and Draco had been going better than either of them could have expected, but they were still essentially strangers.

"Harry," Draco said, waiting until the other boy looked up to meet his gaze. "Don't make this more complicated than it already is," he pleaded.

"I'll do my best," Harry promised. "This is just nothing like what I had hoped my life would turn out like."

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly.

"It's not your fault, Draco. I don't blame any of this on you. It's just difficult to accept some of the changes that the past few days - even hours - have brought about."

"I just feel like I'm getting blamed for a lot at the moment," Draco continued quietly, almost as though he hadn't heard what Harry had said. "My mother's so good at making every little flaw a major disappointment, making everything that went wrong a consequence of something I hadn't given my full attention to. And then tonight, all of my family seated across the table from father and I… all of them watching, all of them _judging_. And it's not even as if I can rely on the support of my father, because he's certain that my choice to marry you will end in disaster."

It was Harry's turn to apologise, some distant part of his mind insisted, but the Gryffindor was too full of anger for Draco to take the time to consider it. "I've half a mind to drag them from their beds and give them a good walloping," he fumed. "Their blindness was worse than yours or your father's! Any other family; they don't hear from you in a couple of months and they start to worry! They pay enough attention to notice when one member starts acting drastically different, no matter how long it takes for the change to come about. And on top of that, they _care_ enough to do something about it, rather than wait for an official invitation once the worst is over!"

"It's not as simple as that," Draco injected into Harry's rant. "Malfoys always have an always will be run by a strict set of rules of etiquette. You do not get involved where you are not invited. You don't interrupted when the Weasel and his brothers are fighting, do you? You step back and let them hash it out."

"There's a difference, Draco - I know that the fight will be over in a matter of hours, days if someone's holding a grudge. But this has lasted sixteen years! Screw pureblood etiquette! There is _no_ excuse that is plausible in explaining away your family's negligence! You are always talk about family pride, but what good is that pride when the family's crumbling from the inside out?"

Harry's words were met with cold silence and in an instant he knew he had gone too far. There was a difference between comforting someone and insulting their family, even if it was in indignation for their behaviour towards that someone.

Draco stood slowly, glaring down at Harry, who was still sat on the floor. "If that is the way you see things, _Potter_, then this is never going to work. Family pride is _everything_. You may not hold much stock in it, or the pureblood etiquette you have so crudely written off, but together they have kept the Malfoy family strong and alive since before the fourteenth century."

The younger wizard hugged his knees to his chest and rested his chin atop them. He did not look up to see Draco, keeping his gaze on the plush carpet just beyond his right foot. "I don't want to fight you, Draco," he murmured. "I don't want to abuse your family traditions, either. But all I've seen of them so far, is cause for you to blame yourself for things beyond your control and reasoning behind their purposefully ignoring a branch of the family that dearly needed help."

Harry didn't see what Draco's reaction was - didn't _want _to see it - instead, he remained staring steadfastly at the floor. A moment or two later the door to Draco's private room shut quietly behind the blond and Harry was left alone in a room far bigger than he was used to, in a place he had always assumed would be a hostile environment to him, if he ever came here.

Struggling with his own morals, and his own irrational fears, Harry remained a while longer curled tightly in a ball on the floor by the sofa. But as the clocks announced the arrival of one o'clock he recognised the need for sleep. Unable to face the alien expansiveness of the massive bed, Harry dragged the covers off and made a nest for himself inside the still empty closet. It was too tall to resemble his cupboard, but the close space brought back the safety of his childhood, the door between him and the Dursleys keeping his hopes and dreams protected from the cruel reality of the world outside. Maybe when he opened the door the following day the world would seem a little less cruel and unknown, a little less scary.

He doubted it.

* * *

Once again, if you want to write comment about this, put it in a PM. Comments, whilst loved aren't always read and I intend to move this story to a different account when I'm finished, so all comments will be lost.


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